


everything about you is perfect, down to your blood-type

by cardiac_arrest



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Asphyxiation, Attempted Sexual Assault, Auston is still a hockey player dw, Auston will not rape Mitch, BCUZ HES MY BBY, Blood, DONT WORRY I STG MITCH WILL BE HAPPY, Death, Detective Mitchy, Domestic Violence, Happy Ending, IN SOME FORM, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Mild Gore, Mild Sexual Content, Minor Character Death, Murder, Or anyone actually, Past Rape/Non-con, Rape/Non-con Elements, Serial Killers, Sexual Assault, Toronto Maple Leafs, hehehehe, how tf did i forget that tag, perhaps happy ending, tags are kind of spoilary?, there will be NO RAPE concerning Auston and Mitch together, tw, which means
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-07-07 02:53:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 15
Words: 45,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15899445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cardiac_arrest/pseuds/cardiac_arrest
Summary: Auston couldn’t stop thinking about the man. Through those few seconds, that specific shade of blue was engraved in his mind. Stupid blue-eyed, brown-haired boy. His mind couldn’t shut up about the boy. “He’s so pretty, don’t you wish you could just see those eyes filled with tears? Pretty and rimmed pink? Don’t you want to see those lips bitten red? Cheeks flushed scarlet?”___In which Mitch is a detective. But what about Auston?





	1. everything's black and white, no grey

**Author's Note:**

> So. This has been kind of a long time coming. 
> 
> I write really short fics. We'll see how this goes. Updating might be an issue but,,,
> 
> Just a few quick warnings before we begin:
> 
> This work will contain murders as well as graphic descriptions of those murders. Manipulation will probably be a big theme in this fic as well. Thus there might be triggers such as blood, gore, sexual abuse and such. Rape and non-con will not be in the first chapter but I don't know how detailed it will get to be later on. Please do not read this if you feel this might be too much for you to handle. I promise to update the tags as I post so all of you will know whether or not this fic is for you. And of course, if you know any of these lovely people in real life or are them, please, PLEASE click away. 
> 
> Any grammatical errors are mine. I didn't edit. Maybe I will, I hate reading my work again lol
> 
> (And sorry if this is ooc oops)
> 
> Alright.
> 
> Thanks guys :)

“Oh wow,” Mitch uttered as he entered the house of Diane and Jason Roberts, a recently eloped couple that lived among the seedier neighbourhoods of southern Toronto. Diane Roberts was sprawled face-down across the sofa, bloody fingerprints marring the pretty porcelain of her skin. Her brown hair was tousled and tangled in a manner that suggested her hair was pulled at the roots in a vicious manner. Myriads of bruises in different shades of yellow, green, and purple were scattered across her body. Sticky blood was drying on the tacky orange couch as it leaked slowly out of the deep wound in her stomach. This was no doubt the cause of death.

“Isn’t this a scene,” Patty murmured to Mitch as he followed behind him, surveying the scene with focus. 

“Oh, yeah,” Mitch replied, “you think Roberts did it?” Moving around the couch, he crouched down and examined the stab wound, mindful of the place cards and contamination of the crime scene. The bruises on her skin might have been months old, old bruises giving away to new ones that were vivid in a delicate yet disturbing manner. 

“For sure, I mean look at those bruises. We all know what the neighbours have said about this couple, too.”

Patty had a point. Inspector Patrick Marleau was a seasoned detective, a good reason why Mitch had been partnered with him after his promotion to Detective Mitch Marner. Although, this would’ve been easy to figure out even from a civilian’s point of view. The murder weapon, a kitchen knife, laid next to the couch - perfect fingerprints along the handle. 

Mitch moved away from the couch as the photographers began documenting the scene. He snapped on some rubber gloves and moved in close to Diane again, photographers all finished. He lifted Diane’s right hand, the one closest to him, and inspected her nails. Blood and dirt were well embedded in those manicured nails. Good. This would be easy to point to Jason Roberts. As long as they were able to find him and conduct DNA testing to match him. Mitch motioned to Diane’s hand. Patty nodded, a sign of acknowledgement. As if he needed more evidence. Mitch bet the blood on the knife handle would match to the blood under Diane’s nails as well as the fingerprints on her body. 

The hard part would be finding Jason Roberts. The body had been dead for a while now, judging by the temperature of the body and hardening of the muscles, at least ten to eleven hours. Jason Roberts could be way out of the city by now. But judging by his character, he wouldn’t be smart enough to do so.

Jason Roberts was only twenty-two, and Diane a youthful twenty. Roberts was a man of violent nature and criminal background. He had been known to get rowdy after a night full of drinking at the local pub. And what would he do after intoxication? That’s right, hurt Diane. Of course, that’s not the only offence he’s had. He was a notorious drug dealer, with his six-foot frame and bulging muscles, it was surprising he even got any customers at all. Cocaine, meth, weed, acid - he sold it all. But to obtain these drugs, he must’ve had to pay a substantial amount of money. This was where Diane came in. Diane met Jason during her freshman year of university. She came from a well-off family that gave her a heady allowance in addition to living expenses for college each month. Jason saw Diane, dripping in jewellery and opulence and couldn’t refuse the chance. Nor could Diane refuse Jason’s roguishly handsome looks and charms. 

The two became enamoured, Diane more so than Jason. They eloped after a few months but not without the disapproval of Diane’s parents. Her accounts had been cut off a few months prior, and Jason got angry. It was evident in Diane’s moulted skin.

Every time Mitch walked into one of these scenes, he wanted to scream. He wanted to find the killer and strangle them and convict them himself. These people didn’t deserve to belong in this world. But he couldn’t commit these unruly crimes, they weren’t just. Life and death wasn’t his decision to make. But at least working in homicide allowed him to get closer to providing justice. But he also knew that many of his colleagues didn’t feel this way. Bribes were more important than doing the right thing. Although, among Patty and several of the different personnel, he knew he picked the right choice. 

“You ready to go?” Patty asked, already pulling his own gloves off. 

“Yeah, sure,” Mitch sighed. He took off his gloves as well and worked to improve his mood. It was a Thursday afternoon and he would finally be able to go home soon. To his tiny apartment in downtown Toronto that he bought for a price that was definitely too high to be a good or even okay deal. But, thankfully, Friday night would entail a better time. He and Patty had gotten tickets along with Marty, a regular constable, to see the Leafs in action. Despite being the early stages of hockey season, it was already starting to get cold in the middle of October. As he pulled his light coat around him, the wind howled as he stepped out of the broken down townhouse.  
“Are you gonna drop me off?” Mitch asked. He lived in downtown. He had no need for a car.

Patty sighed, “Who else is going to make sure your tiny ass gets home alright?”

“Aw, you know you love me. And for the final fucking time, I’m not tiny. I’m literally two inches shorter than you. Like, that’s not even a big difference. Plus, I bet you’re shrinking already with how old you’re getting.”

“Do you want to walk home?” Patty smirked, amused at Mitch’s outburst. 

“No,” Mitch sighed. Though he knew Patty wouldn’t make him.


	2. i just wanna walk like me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Auston fucks some shit up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back with another chapter that's hella short. But hey, the word count's increasing at least?
> 
> So. This chapter is where it gets more descriptive. And it will only get even more descriptive as the chapters pass. I mean, it should at least.
> 
> Grammar mistakes are mine, I edited most of this I think. 
> 
> This chapter also deals with more issues that may be disturbing depending on what you're comfortable with. Trigger warnings will be in the end-notes. Please read with caution, any time you feel it might be getting too much then just please click away. 
> 
> Alright. Have fun, you guys.

Auston didn’t start killing until he was twenty-four. He was adamant about it. With an ongoing hockey career and being the “saviour of Toronto”, he had bigger fish to fry than the stupid rambling thoughts in his mind. Although, really, the only reason he was able to become big through hockey was because of his mind - and how stupid people acted, of course. The thing was, people were so easy to control. Period. Everyone fell prey to his smile; a quick flash of his perfect teeth and they were done. Words were easy as well. He could be very charming if he needed to. Quick compliments and witty remarks were the simple foundation that he used to sway everyone towards his side. To everyone in the world, perhaps even his family, he was known as the Auston Matthews. People thought he was charismatic, smart, athletic, and even kind. He wasn’t kind, that was a word he despised. But how else was he supposed to keep play hockey and conceal his secrets without being kind?

Anyways. He digressed. 

Auston was always intrigued by murder, by serial killers. Killing was so powerful. To be able to have that control over a life and the ability to play god? That was exhilarating. People think that it would be unjustified to kill a human being just because they were human. But it’s not like every human is able to achieve good things. Humanity didn’t work like that. There are always people who bring out the worst in mankind. The first person Auston killed was one of those people. An absolute shitstain upon the entire universe. 

It was winter when he struck, early to mid-December. It was a snowy night, white downy flakes that looked absolutely soft to the touch free-falling in the black of night. Auston had just come off the high of a home game victory. He decided to take a walk that night, adrenaline pumping just enough to be rapturous. Almost enough for him to feel the thrill. He took a loop down to the more frequented bars in the downtown core, rowdy customers constantly coasting up along the chilly streets. It was frigid enough out that he was wearing a pair of gloves and a hat. The drunken streets were typical for being close to midnight. He could afford to stay up that late, though. He didn’t have a practice or a game the next day. Auston was having a great time. The snow falling down and city lights gave an ethereal feel to Toronto, even the drunkards amused him instead of annoying him. 

But then he heard a hoarse cry coming from the right side of the intersection he was coming up on. It sounded like a woman. He turned right and headed down a smaller and narrower road before reaching a tiny alleyway located close to a rundown bar. He didn’t hear anything else over the thumping beat emanating from the bar. He inched closer to the alley, curious as to what could be in there, his mind was already jumping to grim conclusions. And there it was. A grown man forcing himself upon a girl that was probably no older than nineteen. Neither she nor the man was wearing any attire that was fit to be out in the cold. The girl had smudged lipstick all over her face and a makeshift gag in her mouth, the lipstick standing out in a bright crimson blood-red. Her hair was wild, looking more like a bird-nest than human hair. She was wearing a tiny cropped tank top, half of which was already ripped away that revealed her lacey bra, and a short skirt that showed off her long, long legs. That was ripped too. The man was groping her madly, pinning her against the wall with one hand clenching both of her arms while the other was moving purposely under her skirt. Judging by the wince on her face and constant thrashing, this was very nonconsensual. Every so often, the girl would let out a shrill sound, and struggle to kick her legs up at her attacker. It did not help.

“Oh yeah, that’s what I like to see,” the man said. Auston couldn’t make out his expression. “I can feel your cunt opening up, you bitch. Are you ready to take this fucking cock? I bet you’re dripping for it.” The girl floundered even more now. But it would be no use upon the impossible grip and body weight that the man exerted upon her. 

What a disgusting creature. Auston couldn’t believe how fucking dumb this man was. He was lower than Auston than all of the beings on Earth. There would be no stopping him. Unless Auston stepped in. He could feel it. That overwhelming thrill to just attack. To do harm and take. He would take this man’s life. The blood in his veins boiled, he wasn’t cold anymore. His heart was beating overtime, every pump urging him forward. And the voices in his mind agreed with him. For once, he was glad they were there. They whispered to him, “Yes, this is what you were meant to do. This is how you show them.”

And he chose. 

“Hey, you fucker,” he yelled, “what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He kept his voice booming and stood up taller. He had several inches on this scum and quite a few pounds on him. He could destroy this man. 

Both heads turned, the girl’s eyes were comically widened, tears sparkling in the dim lighting. The man, however, only kept up his deranged face - a cross between a dirty grin and a knowing smirk. He turned around and let go of the girl’s arms. She stumbled a bit as she regained full control of her limbs, obviously highly inebriated. Good. She wouldn’t remember him. Auston stalked towards the man, using his size to his advantage. 

“What? Did you want to have a go, too?” the man smirked, stepping towards Auston as if they were squaring up.

“If you think I’m pathetic enough to force myself on someone to get laid, you’re seriously fucked in the head.”

The man’s face changed in an instant. The cocky smile vanished and instead, a mask of anger emerged, remnants of fear poking out through the cracked disguise. Auston knew these people. They were only insecure. But pathetic enough to reassure themselves in an utterly idiotic manner. 

The man took a swing at Auston’s face, one that he dodged easily. The girl let out a shrill scream, a sound that was quite different than the silent and pitying whimpers that she was making. She took the chance to run. Thank god. She wasn’t fully inane. 

Auston took control of the attack. With the man focusing on the punch he was throwing, Auston quickly used his gloved hands and clamped down on the man’s throat. The reaction was instantaneous. Both hands went up to the place where he impaired the man’s airflow and tried to stop him from taking his precious oxygen away. He could feel the delicate pipes and skin even underneath his gloves. It was tempting to remove them to feel the texture of his skin. But he knew he couldn’t. 

The man clawed at his hands, choking on air and making some horrible sounds. Auston couldn’t lie. He liked the sounds. He thrashed and kicked and elbowed, but nothing could deter Auston. He was a fucking hockey player. He knew he was ripped. He knew he had the power to wreck this man like he deserved. He made this decision and he would see it through the end. A few minutes and it would be over. 

He tightened his hold on the sides of the man’s neck and applied even more force. A few more seconds and Auston could see the man’s eyes drooping. His limbs became less violent and limper. The life was draining out of him quick. Before finally, he was unconscious. Auston took that moment to change position to a chokehold before repeating the process again for a few minutes. The man was dead. Chest heaving, Auston dropped the body. His arms were cramping from exhaustion, sweat pouring from his body. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this way. He could never imagine the euphoria that would ensue. Nothing would beat this, not even winning the Stanley Cup for the city he has come to love. 

This was living. 

***

So that was his first killing. And he's been killing ever since. Every single time, the euphoria and power latched onto him, like invisible thorns embedding themselves into his skin. This would taint his soul all the way down to the core. Maybe it was always tainted and now he was finally pure.

Killing was better than hockey. He knew that he wouldn't stop if he started. His mind told him so. But being in the NHL was definitely something that helped with his urges. Sure, he was always in the spotlight, but no one ever looked. The media only sought out the superficial things; his contract, his love life, his family, and small petty crimes like running a red light. It isn't like Auston has given the Toronto police a chance to investigate him anyways. The press might always be looking to exploit him somehow - whether it be trivial drama or controversial crimes. They were always trying to criticise him as if Auston was too perfect and too charming to be real. Well. They were smart enough to be right but dumb enough to miss it completely. If they only knew. 

Two years had gone by since he got his first taste of real power. He never really strayed too far from his original style of killing - sporadically and entirely up to the particular situation that had played out that night. It was easy to cover up the murders as long as he left no DNA evidence. The men that he killed were all known to be sexual predators, and only had a bad reputation to their names. Not many police officers bothered to go further in depth to find out the real murderer. And forensics were definitely out of the question. Who would waste valuable resources on these lowlifes? 

Auston also didn’t stray from his basic principle of randomly catching a wrongdoer and somehow murdering them using asphyxiation. He didn’t plan anything out. But he knew that he could and would want to. It was only the start of the season and he knew this would be the strongest he would be for this year. It would be a good time to finally go after some people he had wanted to for years. He just needed to find a period where he had three to four days before games. And then he could strike.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> Rape involving a minor female character and a minor male character is depicted. Auston kills the minor male character through asphyxiation. 
> 
> If there are any triggers that I missed, please comment below and inform me.
> 
> Thanks for reading guys! Hopefully, the next chapter will be longer and come not too long from now.


	3. i just want you all to myself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The anticipation was thick in the air, Auston was sure he was emitting most of it. The deafening roar of the crowd rang out in the Scotiabank Stadium as the announcers began speaking. His blood rushed below his skin, coursing through veins that were not doubt dilated. He could feel every breath flowing through his lungs. As focused as he was, there was nothing that could compare to his misadventures when killing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's up guys? I'm super tired because of school, but I just really wanted to get this out so I could focus on the next one. Nothing too crazy in this chapter, Jason Roberts gets what's coming to him. That's basically all the physical action in this one. I also didn't edit this too much. Ran it through grammarly and that was it. So, all mistakes are mine.
> 
> I forgot to add, the f slur is used once in this chapter, Auston recounts it from a minor character but is not using it to attack anyone. It's not that much of a spoiler so I put in these notes.
> 
> Please tell me if there are any more triggers that need to be put in the endnotes.
> 
> Have fun )))
> 
> (The chapters are getting longer ahhh. And I just realised the italics weren't working so. Last chapter also had a lot of italics. God I hate this formatting.)

“Marner is in the house! What’s up, everybody? Had a good night?” Mitch greeted enthusiastically, smiling widely at his fellow officers. It was friday morning and he only had a few hours of work before he could finally relax and have fun. He was excited to see Matthews in action - he was always a beast on the ice.

“Wow Marns, you’re up and running already. How is that even possible?” Matt groused. He was never a morning person. He fit the stereotypical image of a cop that had a coffee and doughnut in two hands. But with the way his body looked, it sure didn’t look like he ate any doughnuts.

“You know me, Marty, I just never stop. Plus, the earlier we finish this shit, the earlier we get to get lit up!”

“Jesus Mitchy, how old are you? Can you act like your age once in a while?” Patty countered, walking in from behind him. Mitch hadn’t even seen him! The old man had sneaked up on him!

“Patty! I didn’t see you coming! How was your night? Did you have fun?” Mitch smirked, knowing his wife and children would’ve been happy that he went home early last night.

“So much Mitch. ‘Cause helping with the laundry and driving kids around to their freaking sports clubs is so fun.”

“Aw! Did you hear that Marty? Patty’s gonna become a soccer mom!” Mitch grinned, moving away from the entrance towards his little desk. “Wait a minute, what the fuck are you still doing here? Get out on patrol you doofus! Don’t jeopardize the plan. Fucking hockey, man.”

Marty and Patty glanced at each other quickly before Marty quickly let out a snort. Patty just left. Oh wow. What an asshole. He better finish some fucking paperwork and not leave it all to Mitch. But to be honest it was always the opposite way around.

“Yeah, yeah, keep nagging Mitchy,” Marty said nonchalantly. He sauntered over to the exit, all dressed up in his stupid police uniform that always looked so cool. All Mitch got to wear were dumb stuffy suits.

“Bye Marty! See you this evening!” Mitch called out, even as Marty completely left the room.

Back to work.

***

Work came in the shape of one Kasperi Kapanen. Kasperi was a smart one. Forensic technicians were always smart. He looked years younger than Mitch despite actually being a bit older. The wonders of Finnish blood, Mitch pondered.

“What do you got for me, Kappy? Please tell me you got something that would solve this case,” Mitch pleaded, walking into the lab right behind Patty.

“Oh yeah, we found a few blonde hairs on Mrs Roberts’ clothes, and you know she was a brunette. Looks exactly like Roberts’ hair,” Kappy reported and looked up from the q-tips he was currently using to collect blood samples.

“Definitely compelling evidence,” Patty ensured. Mitch pumped his hand silently. This case was going unusually great.

“We'll get the blood work soon?” Patty continued and wandered around the lab. The body was laid out on the morgue table. The body looked relatively cleaner, evidence already accounted for.

“Yup. Shouldn't take more than a day or two,” Kasperi responded, tongue sticking out in a funny fashion.

“Alright then! Let's go find the asshole, Patty. We'll be back soon Kappy! See you then, dude,” Mitch said. There was a wide grin already on his face. Time to go lock up Jason.

***

“Is this the place?” Mitch asked, climbing out of Patty’s car and shutting the door.

“I guess so,” Patty responded, already out the car. He examined the property before taking off his sunglasses.

Jason Roberts had (most likely) escaped to his cousin's apartment in Moss Park, a seedy neighbourhood in downtown Toronto - only a few kilometres from Eaton Centre. The area was known for its violence and drug altercations. It had a reputation that had preceded many decades. Jason's cousin, Mark Lark, had a criminal record as well. A troublemaker since high school, he was known to deal drugs and be caught up in the occasional fight. At the age of thirty-four, Lark was able to provide support to his twenty-eight-year-old cousin, whether it be in housing or security. The apartment building that Lark resided in was made of concrete and bricks. Old-timey balconies emphasized its age, looking like a typical run-down apartment built years ago. Lark lived on the seventh floor, apartment number 704.

“Alright, buddy. Let's get down to business,” Patty asserted.

They quickly made their way into the building, warrant and badges at the ready. They called for security to let them into the building, notifying them of the situation. Perhaps they should've called for backup. Oh well, the apartment security would have to do.

As they arrived at the correct unit, they got ready to infiltrate. They would need to ensure that Roberts wouldn't run. Patty and Mitch stood on either side of the door while two security personnel waited off to the sides. Mitch bet this wasn't in the job description for them. Or maybe it was.

Patty made a motion with his hand that indicated he was about to start the countdown. He mouthed the numbers three to one, before kicking the door in. They quickly rushed in, guns ready and pointed.

“Police!” Patty yelled, moving quickly into to the open living room. Mitch followed behind, scanning the room fastidiously. There were two men right in the living room, obviously caught in a fiery argument. Jason Roberts and Mark Lark. What kinda bullshit was this luck?

“Face me and put both of your hands up where I can see them! Come on, put ‘em up!” Patty continued. The two scowled at each other, the taller - Lark - muttering about how it was all Jason's fault for getting him into this shit. They both slowly raised their hands, still wholly unhappy. Patty motioned for the security personnel to advance. They quickly positioned themselves with their tasers ready to incapacitate the two while Mitch and Patty kept their guns trained on them. “Now put your hands behind your back! Slowly! Slowly!”

Patty moved around to the back of the men and slowly put his gun down. He quickly handcuffed them both without much struggle.

“I bet you know why this is happening Mr Roberts,” Mitch said, a smirk on his face.

Roberts sneered, “you're never gonna put me in fucking jail!”

Mitch tsked. “Now Mr Roberts, I would cooperate if I were you. You would already go to jail for illegal drug distribution and even obstruction of justice if you didn't cooperate. Your actions and words have consequences, you know. As soon as we get back to the station, you are going to provide us with a sample of your hair and blood.”

Mitch felt satisfied. They got the guy. They only had to wait for the DNA before Roberts would pay for his crimes.

***  
“Kappy! We have good news!” Mitch yelled, dancing into the lab. Patty followed him with an amused smile on his face.

“Oh yeah? Did you get fired, Mitchy?” Kappy smirked, moving away from his work station.

“No, I didn’t, thank you very much,” Mitch said, faking a hurt look and tone.

“We caught Roberts is what Mitch is trying to say. We just need to take his DNA for matching,” Patty conveyed, a fond look upon his face.

“That’s great guys. Gonna make my life easier, too,” Kappy sighed. “If you could get me the samples by the end of today, I could work on it over the weekend and get the results on Monday.”

“Auston huffed out a breath as he pulled on his skate laces. The locker room was rowdy, hockey players all in various states of undress. The mood was high even despite That’d be great Kappy, but don’t overwork yourself,” Patty said. Mitch nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be fine. Go and do whatever you’re supposed to be doing, I got to report to Mo.” Kappy made a face.

“Where is Mo? We didn’t see him this morning either,” Mitch frowned. Morgan Rielly was the other forensic laboratory technician that Mitch talked to in the department. He was older than Kappy, putting him in a higher position.

“I don’t know, I think he’s collecting some evidence from another case that’s not homicide. Probably why you didn’t see him,” Kappy shrugged. He didn’t seem too bothered by it, so Mitch let it go. It was fun to be around Mo and it sucked he didn’t get to see him yet.

“That sucks,” Mitch pouted, “Do you think he’ll be back later?” Patty patted him on the back reassuringly.

“Perhaps, perhaps not,” Kappy smiled. “Get out Mitch, go get Roberts in here. I want that sample.”

“See ya Kappy,” Patty said, tugging Mitch along with him. Mitch managed a reluctant wave and allowed himself to be dragged.

They walked along the corridors, nodding at their fellow co-workers they recognised.

“Patty, why was this case so fucking easy to solve?” Mitch asked.

“Maybe we deserved a break, Marns,” Patty answered. That seemed true. But Mitch couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen. Not something bad that would completely jeopardize the entire city of Toronto, but something dark and foreboding.

“I don’t know, Patty. I feel like something big’s gonna happen,” Mitch sighed, a frown on his normally cheerful face.

“Mitchy. Even if something bad happens, you know it’ll be okay in the end. We’ll work through it, alright?” Patty softly punched Mitch in the arm, hoping to cheer him up. Then, he caught Mitch in a chokehold and noogied his hair.  
“Yeah, I get it, Patty!” Mitch laughed, wiggling and slapping at Patty’s arms.

Patty released him and laughed, “It would be weird if you weren’t always smiling.”

Mitch smiled softly. Patty was always great when he needed cheering up. But he trusted his instincts that spoke of destruction.

***

“Matts!” Willie laughed as he bounded towards him. He launched himself at Auston and clung on. “Are you ready to beat these fuckers?” He was referring to the Senators. They were playing them today.

“You know it, Willie. We’re gonna fuck them up for sure,” Auston said, throwing an arm around Willie. It’s only been two days since their last loss, but it sure didn’t seem like it in the locker room. It was crazy as usual, Willie up to his antics while everyone just watched and chirped him.

Auston was going to strike after today’s game. He had it all figured out. He was going to kill one of the reporters that really should’ve kept his mouth shut. Orson Curran was a pest of a man among the Toronto Maple Leafs. He counted as one of those awful reporters that gave the Toronto media its bad rep. After every game, Orson would come up to each of the players and give them a rundown of how shit they did each game. Every single player. He would always have something to relate the player’s performance that game with some aspect of the player’s personal life, even the players who were benched that night. And he loved to focus on the franchise players, meaning Auston and all of his closest “friends”. He really liked to berate Auston, saying how he always performed so horribly due to his incompetence as a man. He really couldn’t stand the guy, especially after he called Willie a fag for his hairstyle. Who the fuck did the guy think he was? He only started reporting at the beginning of this season, but Auston could tell all the guys have already gotten sick already. Auston had no idea how he didn’t get fired from TSN already. How the fuck did he make it so far that he could even represent the company? How dare the coward call him incompetent when he was obviously the pussy? Orson had already dug himself into a grave. He had it coming to him all along. And Auston was the one who was going to bring justice upon him.

“You ready to go, Auston?” Freddie asked, face hidden by his goalie mask and body fully padded-up.

“For sure,” he replied, face hauntingly dark.

Auston got up from his stall and followed Freddie where the rest of the team was waiting for him. After an exciting yet scary pep talk from Babs, the team rushed to the rink. The anticipation was thick in the air, Auston was sure he was emitting most of it. The deafening roar of the crowd rang out in the Scotiabank Stadium as the announcers began speaking. His blood rushed below his skin, coursing through veins that were not doubt dilated. He could feel every breath flowing through his lungs. As focused as he was, there was nothing that could compare to his misadventures when killing.

“...are your Toronto Maple Leafs!” the voice of the announcer boomed out. Auston moved forward as the rest of his teammates hurried on to the ice, eager to be back playing the game. He exploded onto the ice, revelling in the bangs and cheers of the fans all waiting to get a glimpse at him. Thousands of people, all paying to watch him play. Beams of blue light flashed everywhere, and as he skated around the rink, he caught a glimpse of a man. He had blue-grey eyes and a wide smile full of teeth. He looked so happy to be here. Auston couldn’t help but show off. He was going to make sure his eyes stayed on him.

Auston scored two goals that night. After the first goal, he skated over to the side of the rink where he saw the man - conveniently the side he scored on - and banged into the boards to make the whole thing shake. Then the second, he dropped to one knee for his known celly. Right after that second goal, when he was sitting on the bench, he found a camera and stared straight into it and pointed for good measure. It would stir the media batshit crazy.

They managed to pull through at the end of the night with a win, beating the Sens 5-4. Naz and Willie managed to score a few to push them through to that victory. Auston couldn’t stop thinking about the man. Through those few seconds, that specific shade of blue was engraved in his mind. Stupid blue-eyed, brown-haired boy. There was nothing super special about him. Just those expressive fucking eyes. His mind couldn’t shut up about the boy. “ _He’s so pretty, don’t you wish you could just see those eyes filled with tears? Pretty and rimmed pink? Don’t you want to see those lips bitten red? Cheeks flushed scarlet?_ ”

What the fucking fuck. If he kept thinking like this, he would jeopardize the whole plan to kill that son of a bitch.

He needed to stop thinking and start moving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finallyyyy, this is where it gets interesting :)))))))
> 
> What do y'all think about Auston and Mitchy getting to see each other for the first time? Well, Auston really. Leave a comment below!
> 
> Fuck I'm so tired it's not even that late
> 
> Okay, stay tuned for next time ))


	4. somebody like you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh shit, sorry man, I didn’t mean to be in your way,” Mitch apologized, Canadian manners deeply engraved into him.
> 
> “No worries, it’s my fault in the first place,” the man replied. Mitch saw Marty’s stunned face and turned around to look. Holy shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's Auston's birthday! So I thought it'd be nice to update. On his birthday.
> 
> Anyways. 
> 
> There are some trigger warnings in this chapter, shit goes down. I'll put a list in the endnotes. Please comment if I forgot a warning and please click away if you feel like it gets too much.
> 
> I still have no idea what I'm writing.
> 
> Have fun, you guys :)

“Fuck! Patty! Could you believe that game?” Mitch shouted at Patty, walking towards the subway with Marty on his other side.

“Yeah Marns, it was great,” Patty snorted, covering his ears with lazy hands. Marty rolled his eyes and lightly shoved Mitch with his own body.

“Like, you saw those goals right? We weren’t watching two different games? Auston Matthews fucking tore it! John Tavares who?” Mitch cackled, still running on the adrenaline of watching a thrilling hockey game.

“I would say you were completely fucked up, except you’ve had exactly no alcohol at all,” Marty said, he was totally judging Mitch.

“Aw come on. We paid good money to watch that game and now you’re taking all my fun away!” Mitch complained good-naturedly, wrapping two arms around both Patty and Marty’s shoulders. “Should we go hit up a bar or something?”

“Eh, I don’t know, I think Christina wants me back home,” Patty replied, scratching at his head.

“Aw Mitchy, I’ll stay with you awhile. You can actually get fucked up now,” Marty laughed.

“Then let’s go! Bye Patty! Have fun doing old people things with Christina! Tell her I said hi!” Mitch yelled and rushed away quickly as Patty walked away.

“Yeah, yeah, bye to you too Mitch. Take good care of him, Marty,” Patty replied solemnly. As if Mitch was actually a child. Spoiler alert, he wasn’t. Mitch stuck his tongue back out at Patty as Marty just kept on laughing.

“Come on Marty, let’s go,” he pouted.

They walked a few blocks before entering some random bar. Some people were decked out in Leafs blue while all the others were just having a good time. Mitch and Marty grabbed some seats among the highchairs and waved for the bartender.

“Two beers, please,” Marty said to the bartender. He nodded in return before coming back quick with whatever they had on tap. Mitch nodded in thanks and took a sip.  
“How’s work been going, huh?” Mitch asked, staring at his beer.

“Good, I guess. Caught a few people speeding, a few people dealing weed. Standard things, you know?” Marty replied and took a sip of his beer, “I bet homicide’s more exciting, eh?”

“Yeah,” Mitch sighed. “I dunno know. I told Patty too, but I feel like something’s gonna happen.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Something big.” Mitch played with the condensation on his glass.

“That’s cryptic, Marns.” Marty slapped a hand on Mitch’s shoulder.

“I didn’t know you knew what cryptic meant,” Mitch chirped and leaned his head on Marty’s shoulder.

“Sure Mitchy, like you know what that means. How about you? How’s the other stuff going?”

“What other stuff? You mean my non-existent love life? Compared to you and Patty, my life is just sad in that aspect.”

“Oh come on, would you want me to hook you up with someone? ‘Cause I know a guy.”

“Marty,” Mitch whined.

“Okay, okay,” Marty said, “I was just suggesting.”

Mitch was gay. He’d come out to his family and friends a long time ago. Many of his co-workers in the department supported him wholeheartedly. He couldn’t say that about his people from his childhood.

The door jingled as it was opened again. Two men slipped in, both moving discreetly. One of the men bumped into Mitch, making him spill a little of his beer onto the table.

“Oh shit, sorry man, I didn’t mean to be in your way,” Mitch apologized, Canadian manners deeply engraved into him.

“No worries, it’s my fault in the first place,” the man replied. Mitch saw Marty’s stunned face and turned around to look. Holy shit.

“You’re Auston Matthews,” Mitch said stupidly, mouth forming a perfect ‘o’.

“Heh, yeah, you like hockey?” Auston smiled, looking shy and sweet.

“Do I like hockey? Marty, do I like hockey? I love hockey! I bleed Leafs blue! Great game tonight! I was there, actually,” Mitch replied. His tongue felt too big in his mouth and suddenly it felt like it was twenty degrees hotter. He felt his cheeks burn up and knew they would be red like cherries.

“Oh, yeah? You know, I wouldn’t mind it if we met up sometime. For coffee, maybe?” Auston asked.

“Oh, for sure! Here, do you have a pen?” Mitch’s heart was beating so rapidly. It was going to fly out.

“I always carry a sharpie with me,” Auston grinned, handing over the black pen. Mitch laughed.

“Makes sense,” he grinned and motioned for Auston’s hand. “Here’s my number, just text me a date and address.”

Auston beamed back, perfect teeth shining back at Mitch. “You got it, see you soon…?”

“Mitch,” he replied, a little bit in love. “Mitch Marner.”

***

Mitch woke up on Monday feeling refreshed and well-rested. He stretched around on his bed for a while before letting out a big yawn. He sat up abruptly and pushed his covers to the side. He smiled unconsciously, lips stretching wide with excitation and anticipation. He reached over to his charging phone and checked it. It was 7:05, five minutes before he officially needed to get up. He saw a text from Auston that he received yesterday. Holy shit. He still couldn’t believe Auston Matthews was fucking texting him. Auston wouldn’t be texting him if he wasn’t interested in Mitch, right? But was he gay? Maybe bi?

_Auston Fucking Matthews, SUN 11:27 PM_  
_How the fuck do you eat pizza with pineapple on it? Thats such a disgrace smh_

Mitch’s smile broadened even more. He felt his heart race.

 _Hawaiian pizza is the only pizza that is valid. Everything else is bullshit and disgusting_ , he typed back. Honestly, even if Auston decided he wanted nothing to do with Mitch romantically, at least Mitch had to get him addicted to pineapple pizza. ‘Cause that shit was the bomb dot com.

He finally stepped out of his bed and stretched again, dropping his phone onto his bed. Even with the sufficient heating in his apartment, he felt chilly with the t-shirt and boxers combo he had worn to bed. Toronto weather liked to fluctuate, a deadly combination of wind and rain was quite typical in the autumn months. After a few weeks, the rain would give away to snow. And that would be a shitshow. Mitch quickly ran to the bathroom to take care of his bladder before scurrying back to his bedroom. He grabbed a dress-shirt from his closet and quickly put it on, glad to have the extra fabric on his arms. He decided to go with his blue ensemble today - navy blazer, navy dress pants, and a navy tie.

He grabbed a quick breakfast before fixing his hair and brushing his teeth. He threw on his overcoat, grabbed his phone and messenger bag before walking out the door. He checked his phone again in the elevator but didn’t receive any texts from Auston. Patty, however, had messaged him, saying he already arrived at the department. He walked the short trek to a Tim Horton’s near the department and ordered two coffees - one black, one double-double. Patty was crazy to drink black fucking coffee. How did he have fun in his life?

Mitch entered the building to find an array of familiar looking faces. He waved and greeted them amicably as he found his way to his desk. Patty was sitting down in his chair.

“Hey, Patty! Long time no see! Here’s your fucking coffee, you soulless man,” Mitch announced as he put the tray of drinks onto the desk. He set his bag down and waited for Patty to get out of his seat.

“Mitchy, what a lovely surprise, thanks for the coffee,” Patty said, grabbing his bitter drink and mock cheered before taking a hefty sip.

“Okay, cool, now get out of my seat,” Mitch deadpanned, putting both hands on his hips.

“Aren’t you happy to see me? Don’t you want me to stay a while?” Patty looked affronted while amusement shone in his eyes.

“I’d be happy to see you if you weren’t in my seat. I gotta get shit done, you know? Plus, you literally sit right next to me”

“Wow, Marns, way to respect your elders,” Patty muttered and reluctantly rose from his spot in Mitch’s seat, scooching a few metres to his own seat.

“Thank you, I appreciate your generosity,” Mitch said sarcastically, before smiling and plopping down in his chair. He let out a sigh. “Much better.”

“So, do we need to do stuff? Wait, no, let me rephrase that. What stuff do we need to do?” Mitch said. He had to rephrase unless he wanted to get reprimanded by Patty about his freaking learning skills. Ontario marking scheme bullshit. Wait. He was still going to get slammed about that.

“Wow Mitchy, where's the organisation? Aren't you a responsible young man? And you have no self-initiative either.” Patty reprimanded.

“Oh my god, can you fucking let it go? It's been six months. My learning skills aren’t even that bad. And can you focus? Where are your learning skills?”

“Geez Mitchy, I was just joking. But anyways, we have to go check in with Kappy again. Then I guess we'll file some reports, fill some paperwork out.”

“Ugh, more paperwork. But first, Kappy!” Mitch brightened up. He gasped. “Maybe we’ll see Mo!”

“Yeah, Mitchy, Mo,” Patty chuckled, face lit up with fondness and amusement. “Come on, then.”

Patty moved away from their adjoined cubicle and gave him enough space to get out. Mitch stood up with vigour and marched away from Patty, eager to see Kappy again.

“Mitch, what happened over the weekend?” Patty asked, catching up to Mitch easily.

“Oh, I met Auston Matthews,” Mitch let out nonchalantly, still focused on getting to the lab. _I wonder if Mo’s here_ , he thought, _maybe he’ll tell us what he was doing. I hope Kappy finished analysing the blood. Damn, he’s so fucking committed. He probably worked over the weekend. Now I feel kind of bad._

“Yeah, I know that. Marty already told me.”

“It’s no big,” Mitch said, still lost in his own meandering thoughts. Patty tugged him a little, making sure he didn’t walk into any walls or people.

“Mitchy. Come on.”

“He asked for my number and now we’re texting. Is that so weird?” he scoffed, crossing his arms petulantly. “Oh look, we’re here!”

Mitch opened the doors with a flourish before bounding inside without a thought. Patty sighed.

“Mo? Kappy? Where are you guys?” Mitch shouted, not seeing any sign of them in the deserted laboratory.

“We’re in here!” Kappy’s voice rang out from the back of the room where a small office was located. Mitch walked happily to the door, still thrilled to see Kappy and Mo. Patty followed along silently, keeping his words to himself. For the time being.

“What’s happening in here?” Mitch asked as he poked his head through the door.

“We did the DNA typing, or Kappy did, and it’s a match,” Mo voiced, flipping through a few binders.

“Mo!” Mitch exclaimed, rushing forward to launch himself at Mo. “You’re back! Where were you? And Kappy, thank god it matched, huh?”

Mo laughed and tried to push Mitch away half-heartedly, “yeah, I was busy with some drug thing. Kinda dumb, to be honest.”

“For sure. Aren’t you guys glad you aren’t going to be working on that case anymore?” Kappy grinned, teeth glinting in the light.

“But in a few weeks’ time, we’re going to have to go to a court hearing,” Patty chimed in.

“Yeah, yeah, but then Roberts will be in jail for good,” Mitch declared.

Patty smiled as Mo ruffled Mitch’s hair.

“How was your weekend, Mitchy? Weren’t you looking forward to that Leafs game?” Kappy asked, a sly smile on his face. Patty’s face was set in a stony grimace while Mo looked down at his lap where Mitch was currently sprawled over with a partially intrigued glance.

“Did you guys all talk to Marty or something? I met Auston Matthews, geez guys,” Mitch moaned, turning over dramatically in Mo’s lap.

“You met Auston fucking Matthews? How the fuck did you manage to do that?” Kappy asked bewilderedly. Mo’s face also froze, shock fully written on his face.

“Come on guys, is it that surprising that Auston Matthews wanted to talk to me?” Mitch said, getting up from Mo’s lap like a petulant child.

“Yeah, Mitchy, kinda. Like, I’m way hotter than you. Wait. Auston Matthews is gay?” Kappy exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air.

“Oh shit. I never thought of it like that,” Mo let out quietly.

Patty just sighed again.

“I don’t know yet, I literally just started texting him,” Mitch replied as his phone buzzed in his pocket. He took it out and checked the screen.

_Auston Fucking Matthews, MON 9:08 AM_  
_Sure Marns, might as well eat fucking garbage._

Mitch smiled again and quickly replied with a stream of pineapples and middle fingers. _I’m gonna teach you what real pizza tastes like_ , he wrote after, pressing send without a moment’s hesitation. Oh shit. Was that too forward?

“Wait, what was that?” Kappy asked, concerned with the look on Mitch’s face. Shock and horror were mixed upon both Patty and Mo’s faces. They all glanced at each other as Mitch looked up from his phone.

“What?” he said, utterly confused to what the others were looking at. Was there a bug in the room? Mitch hated bugs.

“That look on your face,” Kappy said, trying to mimic the lovesick demeanour Mitch had on before.

“I didn’t look like that! Are you okay, Kappy? We’re still on duty, alright?” Mitch declared.

Patty was the first to regain control of his shock.

“You know what? We should go, Mitchy. Let’s let Mo and Kappy get back to work,” Patty suggested with a pull at Mitch’s blazer.

“Uh, okay then. See you guys later!” Mitch waved as he quickly followed Patty out the door.

Kappy stared at Mo with mild indignation while Mo just gawked back with wide glassy eyes.

“Mitchy, who were you texting?” Patty asked as they walked tersely through the lab.

“Auston Matthews! Geez dad, do I have to be home at ten now?” Mitch laughed, still indifferent to what happened in the office.

“Uh, yeah, if this keeps going with Auston fucking Matthews,” Patty imparted with a look of disbelief.

“We’re just two bros being bros, it’s so cool to know someone who plays professional fucking hockey.”

“That look on your face was not something you would feel towards a ‘bro’.”

“Sure, Patty. You just have to keep with the times, man. Things have changed.”

“Mitch… I don’t want you to get hurt,” Patty voiced with a glance.

“Aw, I know Patty, I love you too.”

A shrill ring rang out from Patty’s pocket. Patty glared at Mitch, a look that said: “this isn’t over”.

“Inspector Patrick Marleau,” he answered. “Did something happen, sir? Right away? 367 Mercer Street, Unit 1404. Got it, we’ll be there in ten.”

“What happened?” Mitch asked as he looked at Patty in confusion.

“Just got a call from Staff Inspector Dubas, there’s been a homicide at apartment 1404 at 367 Mercer Street. It’s quite gruesome,” Patty stated with a grim expression.

“Oh,” Mitch said, “guess I get a free ride.” His phone buzzed.

_Auston Fucking Matthews, MON 9:33AM_  
_It’s a date, then_

***

“Good fucking lord,” Mitch exhaled.

“Yeah, this might be the worst one yet,” Patty said.

Orson Curran, an established sports journalist, laid dead on his living room carpet. An array of his past articles laid spread out upon the floor in a halo around his head. Mitch read many of Curran’s articles on the Leafs, but always disliked the way he wrote them. He had nothing nice to say, and that was fine. Because this was Toronto. But all the weaknesses that he wrote down of the players were related to their personal lives or elements that had absolutely no effect on how the players contributed to the game. All the articles were crossed out in blue ink while ripped in shreds. A kitchen knife was embedded in his heart, while a cartoon heart was etched into his skin on the right side of his chest. Blood scabbed over both wounds, forming a hard brown shell. The carpet was stained with blood, from the wound as well as a cruel image. A set of wings were drawn on with, most-likely, the victim’s blood, scarlet-brown imbruing the synthetic fibres. His white t-shirt, also stained with blood, showed off his arms where lacerations were scratched in. Both of Curran’s eyes were slashed by two cuts forming an “x”. It was pretty gruesome as his eyes were still open. Mitch had never seen the inside of an eyeball before.

There was still a suspicious rusty blotch on the crotch of Curran’s sweatpants. Gross. A strange bruise wrapped itself in a line around Curran’s neck, imprinting purple and green patches. It seemed like a mark from strangulation.

“Oh, sorry,” Mitch apologised as the forensic technicians started putting up tape around the body. For a homicide like this, Mo and Kappy were both probably going to need to come to the scene.

“Hey, one of the techs just let me know that the knife was most likely taken from the kitchen,” Patty said.

“Oh okay, I see. Did they find any fingerprints yet?” Mitch replied.

“No, I don’t think there are any at all. The coroner thinks that all the other lacerations and wounds are post-mortem as well.”

“Strangulation was the cause of death then?”

“I guess so. Or drugs, but that bruising says everything.” Patty shrugged.

“And what about that suspicious stain on his pants? And the blood on the carpet and halo?” Mitch asked with a disgusted look.

“Well, I mean. They didn’t take off his pants yet. The photographers still need to have a go. I guess our killer fancies symbolism.”

“Ugh okay, that’s going to be gross.”

But why would anyone kill Curran? And what was with that symbolism?

“We found something!” a technician called out.

“What’cha got?” Mitch turned.

She held up an object slick with saliva with tweezers, “It’s a feather.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:
> 
> A minor character gets murdered in a gory way. There is a description of the crime scene - which includes talk of blood and mutilation, but I don't think it's in too much detail. Please heed these warnings carefully. 
> 
> Thanks for reading again guys!


	5. i wish you could be honest with me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Thanks, someone’s waiting for me already,” a cheerful voice rang out tinnily in the front of the restaurant. Auston turned his head towards Mitch and smiled, waving him towards the table. Mitch scanned the restaurant for a short minute before locating Auston’s moving figure and brightened up immediately, happiness radiating from every pore within his body - as if Auston was the only thing in the world that mattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay. Boys meet for the first time. 
> 
> There are definitely trigger warnings in this chapter, I don't want to spoil it so I'll put them in the endnotes as usual.
> 
> Can you believe that these chapters are getting longer? Wow.
> 
> If you enjoyed it and would like to talk about how this fic is going to go (cuz I still have absolutely no idea) come message me on tumblr. Or leave a comment. 
> 
> Have fun, and remember to heed the triggers.

“I just don’t understand,” Mitch complained. “Why was there a feather? A halo? Wings? His dick was cut off for fuck’s sake!” He was slumped over his desk that was adjoined to Patty’s.

After an initial superficial view of the crime scene and after the photos taken, evidence was taken from the body. This included taking off the vic’s pants, where they found out the killer had dismembered the man’s genitals. They then found his penis stuffed into his throat, along with a single white feather tainted with blood and spit. Curran’s body had been left dead since Saturday night. Decomposition had begun and the body had already started to bloat. Mitch felt quite bad for the forensic investigators.

The cause of death was actually asphyxiation by strangulation, as seen from the bad bruising on Curran’s neck. It was caused by a long plastic cord that was found near the body. All the lacerations, including the dismemberment of Curran’s dick, were performed post-mortem. There were a few bruises on Curran that indicated he struggled against his killer. No drugs were found in Curran’s bloodstream either. The killer was meticulous - no fingerprints or hairs were left behind at the crime scene, and the knife in his chest was confirmed to be taken from the kitchen. The funny thing is, the killer didn’t force their way into the apartment. So who could it be? What would the motive be?

“Well, people usually think of angels when they see halos and wings and feathers. A religious psychopath?” Patty suggested, ploughing through some paperwork.

“Why angels if the killer’s religious? Why not carve a freaking cross into the body? I don’t see why they dismembered his penis either! And the heart carved into his chest? Oh, and the x’s on his eyes!”

“I really don’t understand the heart on his chest if the killer already put a knife through his actual heart. Maybe the killer cut his eyes because they didn’t want to the feel the guilt when they looked down at him. Many killers do that, you know.”

Mitch sighed. His cell phone vibrated.

_Auston Fucking Matthews, MON 11:32 AM_  
_So we’re good? Jz’s Pizza at 12:00 tomorrow?_

_For sure_ , Mitch typed back. Speaking of pizza, lunch was going to come up soon. Maybe after some brainstorming, he and Patty could go get some freaking food. Then they’ll go talk to some of the people Curran worked with. Maybe there were some people in his office that absolutely hated his guts.

“I know, Patty,” Mitch sulked. “Let’s go talk to the people Curran worked with. Maybe we’ll get lucky again and some random person had a bone to pick with him.”

“Sure Mitchy, keep dreaming,” Patty replied.

***

Orson Curran turned out to be a huge dick. He sucked up to his bosses but acted shitty towards all of his co-workers. He was covering both Toronto FC and the Toronto Maple Leafs. But according to various sources around the office, both teams disliked him. A lot.

“Orson was just promoted this July, actually,” Archer Vincent, one of his co-workers, said. “He was always really vicious towards everyone, and it showed in his work. I don’t think anyone really minded back before he started working on TFC and the Leafs. I heard rumours that he was going to get fired soon, too.”

Mitch nodded, jotting everything down in a notebook.

“Do you think anyone in the office might have had something to do with this?” Patty asked, keeping a trained eye out for any lies or fidgeting.

“Nah, no one really cared. I mean, he wasn’t the nicest guy, but no one would really go out of their way to hurt him. A murder? Do journalists seem like ones to commit murders?” Archer spoke. He seemed very calm, not too upset by the loss. But no one really liked Curran anyways.

“You have a point. Okay, thanks for the info, Archer,” Mitch smiled.

“No problem, come back anytime,” Archer nodded and returned to his work.

“Huh,” Mitch said, mildly confused, “a lot of people didn’t like Archer, but not enough to kill him. Which makes sense.”

“Yeah Marns, we’ll have to go to the parents next. And significant other if he has one,” Patty sighed.

“Hey Patty,” Mitch started, “would it be alright if we didn’t go out for lunch tomorrow?”

“Uh yeah. Sure. Why though?”

Mitch looked down at his feet and avoided Patty’s eyes.

“I’ve got something with Auston.”

Patty’s eyes widened, “Mitch, are you kidding me? You’re meeting up with him now? Are you going on a date?” He sounded very much like Mitch’s dad.

“Something of the sort,” Mitch drifted.

“Well, congratulations, I guess. You better tell everyone else or they might get mad at you.”

“That’s all you’re going to say?” Mitch startled.

“I’m not actually your dad, Mitchy. But I am surprised that you managed to pull Auston Matthews.”

“Oh fuck off, I’m plenty awesome,” Mitch laughed. He made some obscure motion with his hands that was supposed to indicate how cool he was.

“Come on Mitchy, let’s go talk to some other people,” Patty smirked.

***

After a long day at work, Mitch returned to his apartment only to launch himself face-first at his couch. He felt tired. He didn’t even do much today, just talked with a bunch of people that Curran knew. His parents were devastated, of course. Curran was only thirty-four. They didn’t know of anyone that would’ve murdered him. And he also didn’t have a significant other or siblings. All those elements that were incorporated at the crime, there was no way the person who committed the murder was just your average person. To execute something of this calibre, the individual would really have to have no empathy. Some of the cuts were sloppy, sure, but there was no way the individual hadn’t killed before. Why target a lowly sports reporter? If the person really was religious, what was the lesson supposed to be? Maybe they wanted to punish Curran. By killing him and cutting his dick off. And the strength it would take the murderer to successfully cut off Curran's air-supply would be crazy, even more so if Curran was struggling. The perpetrator had to be male, there was no way a woman could exert that much force. Male, young and in shape.

Just like Auston was in shape. Fuck.

Now he was thinking about Auston Matthews. Mitch shook his head and rightened himself up. He ran a hand through his hair. Auston Matthews was in very good shape, being a professional hockey player and all. He could probably even bench-press Mitch a hundred times. That thought sent a shiver through Mitch. He probably shouldn’t be thinking about Auston that way. What if he misinterpreted the text and it wasn’t actually a real “date”? It would be safe to tone down the flirting and keep the pretence that he wasn’t gay. Unless he wanted a repeat of that last time.

The last time.

Mitch always knew he was gay. The first crush he had was in kindergarten, a little boy named Sam. He had curly black hair and grey eyes like an owl. They were freakishly large. Sam always played with him and sat with him. He even shared his snacks with Mitch. During that age, some of the other boys were talking about girls. They said they were gross and had cooties and that they would never kiss them like their mom and dad kissed each other. Mitch didn’t think girls had cooties back then. He didn’t like girls. He told his parents that. He said he thought that kissing Sam like they did would be much more fun.

That was how Mitch came out to his parents.

But it was completely different when it came to his hockey team. He was fifteen when he played with the Don Mills Flyers in the GTHL. He had loved the Toronto Maple Leafs ever since he was little and hockey was engraved in his soul. He lived it. He knew he would be working to play for the Leafs. The NHL was his dream, as it was with many of his teammates. Everyone knew he was good, including himself. He didn’t know his teammates would resent him for his skills. It wasn’t his fault anyway, he just worked hard.

One day, in the middle of December, he asked his boyfriend at the time to go watch a game. He wasn’t out to his team yet and he didn’t want to be. There was a barrier holding him back. Something in his mind knew there would be dire consequences if he did. There was always something off with his teammates, something lurking below the surface of their fake congratulations and cheers. So when Mitch’s boyfriend, Reagan, went to watch the game, he went as his friend from school. Mitch felt guilty about it. He hadn’t ever lied about his relationship with Reagan, not even to his parents or the kids at school. The decision shocked Reagan, but he made do. He knew that hockey was a part of Mitch’s lifeblood. Without hockey, Mitch would have crumbled away into nothingness.

The game went great. They pulled off a win with two assists from Mitch. The changing room had been loud. All the players were infecting each other with the overwhelming joy from winning a game. Mitch was happy to push and pull at the intricately delicate dynamics of their team, teetering on the edge of camaraderie and too much. He sang stupidly loud with one of the people he was closer to on the team, Charles Alford, and slung an arm over his shoulder. After a few minutes of their rambunctious celebrations, he went to get changed and go home. Reagan was waiting.

As soon as he walked out of the changing room, he could see his mom and Reagan waiting. They were making conversation while Reagan’s eyes were wide with awe.

“You were awesome out there!” Reagan exclaimed as he caught sight of Mitch. He ran forwards as Mitch bounded towards him.

“Aw, you really thought so?” Mitch blushed, still well aware of his mom and teammates in the background. “C’mon, let’s go outside.”

They quickly ditched Mitch’s mom and walked outside into the frigid night. The walked towards the parking lot, trying to stay hidden in the shadows of the looming arena.

“I only like hockey when you play,” Reagan smiled and moved to press a quick kiss on Mitch’s lips. Mitch grinned sweetly.

“Sweet-talker,” he teased back, brushing some of Reagan’s hair out of his eyes. “Let’s go before my mom gets suspicious.”

Charles must have seen him that night because next practice was hell. They were doing drills, as usual, but every time Mitch tried to talk to him or anyone else they would stick his nose up at him or just ignore him. At first, Mitch was confused. Then sad. And then mad. He had no idea what he had done for his teammates to ignore him to this extent. As soon as practice ended and they all went to the changing room, everything changed. Mitch took his time getting changed. He wanted to confront his friends. A bunch of the guys he wasn’t too close with had left. The only people left in the room was Charles and the guys he was close with. Mitch had already showered and was about to put his t-shirt on.

“Are you a fag?” Charles sneered as he sauntered up to Mitch with his friends following behind him like his goddamned posse.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Mitch countered, fear ringing through his stomach. He had gotten caught with Reagan.

“I saw you with that other fag you brought to the last game. You were kissing and shit. That’s disgusting,” Charles derided, stepping even closer to Mitch.

“That’s not true, Charles, come on man,” Mitch said softly, unconsciously curling up into himself. Charles quickly shot out one hand and tugged Mitch’s hair, bringing Mitch’s head into an uncomfortable position. He let out a cry of pain and surprise, too shocked to keep the sound in.

“Shut the fuck up. If you’re such a homo, you must like sucking dick.” Mitch shook his head violently, struggling to get away from Charles. But between Charles’s hold on his head, the solid wall behind his back, and his admittedly smaller size, there was no way he could escape. Especially if Charles’s friends were there as backup.  
  
“Fucking stop! What are you even doing?” Mitch cried out, trying to kick Charles in the crotch in erratic intervals.

“This will fucking teach you,” Charles said as his goons moved to keep Mitch in place while he took his dick out.

  
Needless to say, Mitch stopped playing hockey after that. He walked out of that locker room dejected, with dishevelled hair and bruises on his cheeks and arms. His eyes were rimmed pink, still tearing up as he lugged all his heavy gear with useless arms. He went out into the parking lot, feeling the eyes of his asshole teammates tracking his every move. He found his mom’s car and got in. He said he was never going to play hockey again.

His mom had been aghast. Hockey was Mitch’s life. Why would he just stop playing it when he was doing amazing? It turned into a big argument when his dad got involved. He was supposed to make it to the NHL, all this money and time wasted for nothing. His dad and mom were both yelling, both at him and each other. Then he started crying. He never cried. They were both so stunned they stopped. They agreed to his request. He would never play hockey ever again.

After the whole ordeal with the Flyers, he broke up with Reagan. He couldn’t stop feeling anger every single time he saw him. He started to withdraw from his friends and his grades declined. He felt sick at what he did, that he just sat there and took it. He felt like he didn’t deserve to be near around his friends with how cowardly he had acted. He couldn’t eat either. Every day he would come home from school just to shut himself in his room and stare at the wall. His parents were tremendously worried. One day, he blurted out what had happened and went to get help from a therapist.

He slowly returned to his normal self, smiling with all teeth and blatantly disregarding everyone’s personal space. He didn’t feel ashamed anymore. He was fuming again. How dare those assholes decide Mitch was supposed to be their victim? He had enough of that shit. That was how he decided to become a part of the police department. Fueled by the inferno inside of his heart, he pushed to be part of the justice system. He regretted quitting hockey. He should’ve kept going just to spite the fucking dicks, but he knew he had lost too much time to even thinking about going pro. His dad even wanted to press charges onto Charles and co, but he refused. They would get what’s coming to them soon enough. They played shitty hockey, anyways.

  
Mitch got off of his sofa and walked towards his kitchen. He was going to make a quick meal for dinner before pondering about the stupid case for the rest of the night.

***

Auston smirked. After a stroke of luck, he managed to stumble into the same bar as the pretty blue-eyed angel. Sure, he had inspired Auston’s actions that night. No matter what was going to happen, that boy - Mitch -was going to be his. There was enough trauma hiding behind those eyes to intrigue him. He would be easy to manipulate into Auston’s hands, no doubt melting into his arms without a moment’s hesitation. And Auston would only encourage it. He’ll tear the boy apart with his words and emotions, putting him back together in a way that will please him the most. Mitch will be a multi-colour quilt, stitched together by his need and love for Auston, drowning in his desires to prove himself worthy. Mitch will be utterly and completely destroyed, ruined for everyone else except Auston.

The first part of his plan was entrapping Mitch in an ideal version of Auston that everyone liked. It was easy to play up his innocence when he entered the bar with Hyms, all shy smiles and averted eyes. He softened his voice and hid behind his hair, acting blustered in an endearing manner that would only show off how amiable he was. Mitch fell for it. His affinity for hockey only helped simplify what Auston needed to do to snare him. Now, they were going to go on a pizza date. Auston didn’t like pineapple pizza. Sure. He didn’t hate it that much but Mitch didn’t know that.

When he walked into the pizza shop, he knew breaking his meal plan would be for a good cause. He indicated a table for two before quickly grabbing a seat in the back. There weren’t many people in the restaurant, only a few people sitting at the bar and office-workers out at lunch. The restaurant was pretty close to the Scotiabank Arena (god that name was stupid) though, and he didn’t want to get spotted. So he pulled his cap a bit lower and hoped his baggy hoodie and light jacket would disguise him. The door to the restaurant opened, bringing a quick gust of frigid wind.

“Thanks, someone’s waiting for me already,” a cheerful voice rang out tinnily in the front of the restaurant. Auston turned his head towards Mitch and smiled, waving him towards the table. Mitch scanned the restaurant for a short minute before locating Auston’s moving figure and brightened up immediately, happiness radiating from every pore within his body - as if Auston was the only thing in the world that mattered. A good start already.

“Hey,” Mitch started as he pulled his overcoat off and sat down, adjusting his plain dress-shirt.

“What’s up?” Auston smiled sweetly, still hoping to keep up the endearing visage.

“Oh, I just got off from work for a lunch break,” Mitch huffed out, ears and cheeks slightly pink from the harsh winds.

“That’s interesting, what do you do?” Auston asked with a look that dripped charm and pretended to glance up shyly at Mitch.

“Uh, I’m a detective with the Toronto Police Service,” Mitch smiled with a weird look, “Detective Mitch Marner is in the house!”

A cop. Auston shivered internally. This would be interesting. The world loved to throw curveballs at him. How would he play with little Mitchy now?

“Oh wow, that’s so cool,” he gushed, “if I didn’t play hockey, I think I’d try to get in the justice system as well, you know? Helping people, right?” Honestly, even he was feeling a little bit sick at how he was acting.

“Are you always like this?” Mitch asked, a look of disgust on his face.

Auston stopped.

“What?”

“I know you’re a pro hockey player and all, but the way you’re acting is really some kind of bullshit. I thought you were going to be cool but this is just weird. I thought this was a thing, but I can’t deal with fake people. So either stop or I’m just wasting my time.” Mitch sat back and crossed his arms, face stone cold.

“Would you like any drinks to start?” the server, conveniently, interrupted in a friendly tone.

“Just water, thanks,” Mitch said in a stoic tone, arms still crossed.

“Water as well, please,” Auston said. His face was composed back into the indifference he often reserved for the public. Mitch stared at him, gaze hard and unforgiving. Who knew Mitch could read him so well? Auston felt a pull at the thought. Maybe there was finally someone that could be his equal. Someone that could understand him. But mainly, Auston just wanted to unravel Mitch, as if he was a ball of yarn comprised of sharp edges disguised as soft, colourful string. Who was Mitch? His intrigue and attraction piqued with full force. He stared back at the boy with a quick tongue hidden by compelling enthusiasm.

“Well?” Mitch asked, looking prepared to leave.

“Fine,” Auston said. He didn’t want to lose out on this. “You got me. That wasn’t real.”

“I know that,” Mitch scoffed, glancing away in disbelief. He uncrossed his arms and set both elbows on the table, setting that soul-searching gaze towards Auston. “So, show me the real you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> More gore - there are descriptions of a corpse, not in too much detail. There is implied rape between Mitch and a few minor-ish characters that happened a long time ago. The word f*g is also used a few times in that scene.


	6. i'll be your drug

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “They said macaroons,” he stated.
> 
> “I heard,” Mitch responded.
> 
> “Those are not macaroons. They’re macarons.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just changed every chapter title to lyrics. That was fun. I got so inspired to music so if y'all would like a spotify playlist, just add a quick comment and I'll make one! 
> 
> Leafs pre-season game. Mitchell Marner with 4 points. Fuck I love one (1) man. 
> 
> No warnings in this chapter, nothing really happens? I don't know what I'm writing anymore. 
> 
> Have fun everyone!

Many people mistake Mitch’s happiness for stupidity. Why would anyone actually physically go through so much work just to keep a smile on their face twenty-four seven? They often thought Mitch was unintelligent due to his cheery demeanour, as if being content with his life lowered his IQ by a significant factor. But the thing was, Mitch wasn’t an idiot. He was a detective, for fuck’s sake. He knew people and he knew how to read them. He could figure out someone’s personality just by watching them for a few minutes, made even easier if he could hear their conversations. So that “date” with Auston had seemed odd from the beginning. Just by Mitch looking at his body language. He wasn’t scared to call Auston out either, he had nothing to lose. He wasn’t going to deal with someone so fake. There was no point. He wasn’t afraid to get feisty with a pro hockey player. He could’ve made the NHL too. And it was known that he was petty.

After getting Auston to drop that sickening act, lunch ended up going great. Sarcasm was something Auston was really into, not being overly sweet and hanging off of every word Mitch said. They talked a bit about Mitch’s job, how he was young but had a job as a detective.

“How the fuck did you manage to make it into the police force?” Auston had asked with a smirk on his face, malice completely absent in his tone.

“You just gotta work for it, you know. Kinda like hockey,” Mitch replied with a small smile, reaching for a slice of Hawaiian pizza.

“Shit Marns, you play hockey?” Auston raised an eyebrow. That was pretty hot.

“Used to, not anymore,” Mitch grimaced. “I haven’t played since I was fifteen.”

“You gotta show me some of your moves then,” Auston drawled, realising he needed to change the topic. He leaned forward a bit more. “Is this better than before?”

“Total improvement. What the fuck was that in the beginning?” Mitch scoffed.

“I had to impress you in some way,” Auston shrugged, gaze flitting off of Mitch. He was a hundred per cent lying.

“Oh yeah?” Mitch raised his eyebrows, biting and licking his lips. He would let Auston get away with it this time

“For sure. Would you be down to do this again?”

“You know I could never refuse,” Mitch grinned, sunshine bursting through his smile and eyes.

That had been intense. There was this charged tension between him and Auston, something tangible that pulled them towards each other. It was physically compelling. It was also one of the reasons he didn’t just walk out on Auston when he was being a dick. Auston was different. Mitch couldn’t figure out what yet, but he wanted to find out. There was something so intriguing about Auston that he just couldn't let go. His physical stature was just a bonus.

Mitch hadn’t had a boyfriend in years, too busy and uninterested to actively seek out partners. How do people normally find significant others? Through work? Well Mitch would be tough out of luck on that one, most people in the department were straight. Many of which Mitch also saw as a father or brother figure. And he had no interest in women. He did go out for sex on occasion, when work doesn’t try to screw him over, that is. Sex wasn’t something he was addicted to, he was still a bit scarred from that encounter with Charles. There was still a hatred deep down inside of him for Charles, the stupid fuck had changed his life forever. But sometimes, he still needed sex to ground him. There were too many thoughts in his head, thoughts that needed to be locked away because of how malevolent their nature was. If he got fucked hard enough, a fog would wash over him and all he could feel would be a sense of contentment. Oblivion over the jumbled thoughts in his mind.

He knew Auston would be able to do that for him given time.

***

Going back to work after lunch had been exhausting. Patty had given him a raised eyebrow that just screamed Mitch wasn’t going to get away with anything. Mitch just shrugged, pretending to be nonchalant about it. He wasn’t.

But then they got back to business to find the stupid person who murdered Curran. They looked over some of the security footage the condo had sent over. It was hard to nail a specific timeframe for the murder, all they knew was that it happened on Saturday night. But that could’ve been anytime from seven pm to one in the morning. They looked through the footage in the lobby, but couldn’t find anyone of interest. Nor could they find anyone going to Curran’s floor in the elevator to be of interest.

“Goddammit Patty,” Mitch sighed as he replayed the security footage in the elevators for the third time. He smashed the space button on his laptop angrily, wanting to throw it across the office.

“Lower your voice Mitchy, don’t distract everyone else,” Patty said, tone only half-teasing. He was also going through security footage, but from the lobby.

“Did you find anything?” Mitch asked, looking to his left pleadingly. Patty glanced back.

“No, Mitch,” he dragged out. “I don’t even know what I’m looking for.”

“Me neither,” Mitch mumbled depressingly. He slumped over the table and pressed play reluctantly with a single finger.

“Why so sad, Mitchy?” a familiar voice smirked, walking in front of Mitch’s desk.

Mitch glanced up through his eyelashes to find Marty. “Oh, it’s you.”

“Huh,” Marty said. “I thought I’d get more enthusiasm from you.” He was decked out in his gear, his gun in the holster.

“Me too,” Patty piped up. There was a look on his face.

“Don’t you dare start, Patty—”

“Mitch just went on a date,” Patty shrugged, pure evil in his eyes. Mitch groaned and gave up on the tape. He closed his eyes and covered his head with both arms. He should just get started on some sleep.

“Oh yeah? Mitchy’s getting big, I think I’m gonna shed a tear,” Marty joked and gently ruffled Mitch’s hair.

“Stop,” Mitch whined.

“You won’t believe who it was with though,” Patty added.

“Let me guess, Auston Matthews,” Marty laughed. Mitch burrowed further into his arms. Marty looked back to Patty who only nodded a little bit in amusement. “No shit? Wow Mitchy, you’re really getting it on with him, huh.” A few more pats on his head.

Mitch didn’t even try to deny it.

“That’s not a pressing matter at the moment,” Mitch said. “There’s been a murder, you know.” Marty chuckled.

“Everyone in the department has heard about that,” Marty said. “They’ve been calling him the Angel of Death.”

“Great,” Patty said, “now he has a nickname.”

“Where did that even come from? And how would you know it’s a he?” Mitch countered.

“Feathers, a halo, wings. Everyone thinks of an angel. Aren’t most serial killers men, anyway?” Marty shrugged.

“Yeah, but we’re not supposed to stereotype. What if it turns out to be a woman instead?” Mitch responded.

“Well do you think it is?”

“No,” Mitch exhaled. Patty snorted.

“It’s lucky the press didn’t get a hold of this yet,” Patty added, finally shutting the top of his laptop. He swivelled on his chair to face the two other men.

“I think they found out already,” Marty drawled out very slowly.

“What?”

“There’s a whole bunch of them camped outside of here,” Marty said. “It’s why I came in here for a break. I thought you guys knew.”

Patty put his face in his hands. Mitch groaned again.

“What do they know?” Mitch asked.

Marty shrugged. “I just saw them outside, haven’t checked any news outlet yet.”

Mitch straightened up, blood rushing to his head quickly. He opened up google and searched “murder in Toronto”. Then he clicked the news button. Yup. There it was. The first article was by a random news site called Tattle Crime. It was titled “A Shocking Homicide Case: Breaking News Toronto”.

“Patty, look at this.” Even Marty leaned over the laptop.

Mitch clicked on the article and waited for it to load. The first thing he saw was a picture of the body at the original crime scene in all its gory glory.

“Fucking shit,” Mitch cursed. The article had everything. The vic’s name, Patty and Mitch’s names, and even trash-talked them badly.

“Well then,” Patty articulated. “This thing is a shitshow.” Mitch made a noise in agreement.

“It’s okay,” Mitch said, keeping calm, “it’ll be fine after we catch the asshole.”

“Good luck with that,” Marty said. “I think my break’s over. I’ll keep an eye and ear out for anything that’ll be useful.” He walked away quickly. Mitch only stared. Then he turned his head to the left.

“We’re so fucked.”

Patty hummed.

 

  
***

 

  
Auston liked Mitch. That was hard to admit. As he sat there on Willy’s couch, listening to whatever bullshit Willy was sprouting about the random superhero movie on the TV, he really wished Mitch was there. Hyms just sat beside Willy, looking grumpy. Willy was definitely making too much noise for Zach to be happy. He was a hundred percent invested in the movie. And Auston? He still wanted Mitch to be there. Hearing Willy’s tedious commentary really reminded Auston of the way Mitch would ramble on about a subject, any subject. For these past few weeks, Mitch had been caught up investigating the Angel of Death Murder (aka his own). Many websites have already frowned upon him for how he had been handling it. A stupid site, Tattle Crimes, had outed every single detail about the murder before any legitimate news outlet had even caught wind of the event. Auston had been reading up on it like crazy, still infuriated at the way the author portrayed Mitch. There had been no leads since the murder date a few months back.

It was already close to Christmas and Mitch was very irritated. It had seemed that way in his texts at least. But every meeting with him only brought Auston a sense of joy and satisfaction. He was slowly worming his way into Mitch’s mind and heart, and it would only be a matter of time before Mitch was his. He had a few days before he would need to go on a road trip that would span ten days and would be back in time for New Years. That would definitely be spent with Mitch.

“Great! Now I know that she’s gonna be held hostage,” Willy complained, springing back into the couch with displeasure.

“Shut the fuck up Nylander,” Zach deadpanned, “Some of us are trying to watch the goddamn movie.”

Auston smoothed his hair back and dragged a hand over his face in exasperation.

“I second that,” he said. He pulled out his phone in hopes of ditching the two.

_To: Mitchy Marns 8:24 PM_   
_R u busy rn?_

Mitch replied back instantly: **_No, why?_**

_willy is being annoying, can I come over?_

**_sure, why not_ **

_i’ll be there in 20_

A string of thumb ups and kissy emojis filled the screen.

“Alright, I’m leaving,” Auston announced, rising with a flourish. Zach looked at him with a look of disbelief.

“Don’t leave me alone with him, Matts! Please, I’m begging you!” Zach pleaded, looking like a man ran ragged.

“Aw, so soon? We just started the movie,” Willy replied innocently, as if he actually wanted to watch the shitty movie.

“Something just came up,” Auston said and tucked his phone in his pocket.

“It’s Mitch isn’t it?” Zach said impassively, mildly hurt at the way Auston would just leave him with Willy.

“Well,” Auston shrugged, “he’s just more important than you losers.”

“I’m hurt! Zach! Did you hear what he just said?” Willy shouted, flopping over on top of Zach who only groaned in response.

“I’m gonna go now,” Auston responded as he pulled his jacket from a vacant chair. “Have fun, Zach.”

He could feel Zach’s discontentment in waves through the door.

 

Auston opened the door to Mitch’s apartment without a problem.

“I’m here,” he said as he took off his winter jacket. Toronto did not play when it came to weather.

“Hey,” Mitch said as he poked his head from the couch, smothered in blankets. “Come in Aus, I’m so lonely.” Mitch raised both hands and put on a sad puppy face, trying to entice Auston into cuddling him. Auston didn’t need any incentive to cuddle Mitch.

Netflix was on, a random baking competition on the screen. It was a Friday. Which meant Mitch could relax while Auston had a game tomorrow night. Auston quickly slipped his shoes off and started towards Mitch. He flopped onto Mitch’s comfy couch, moving to spoon Mitch from behind. He wrapped two arms around the circumference of Mitch’s waist, he always found it to be so dainty. In a good way. He nuzzled his face into Mitch’s neck while Mitch squirmed and laughed. He was ticklish.

“I literally just came from watching a movie,” Auston said, inhaling the comforting scent of laundry detergent and subtle cologne.

“But that wasn't with me!” Mitch joked, grabbing one of Auston’s hands and pressing a sweet little kiss upon it. A few weeks did wonders for their relationship.

“I know,” Auston mumbled, glad to be lying with Mitch.

He moved his head up and stared at the screen.

“They said macaroons,” he stated.

“I heard,” Mitch responded.

“Those are not macaroons. They’re macarons.”

“How do you know?” Mitch laughed, swatting back at Auston’s head playfully.

“Hey!” Auston exclaimed, “I have sisters you know.” In retaliation, he squeezed Mitch tighter and briefly ran his fingertips up and down Mitch’s stomach.

Mitch wriggled again.

“Alright, alright! I won’t question you and your baking knowledge!” Mitch giggled, the sound fresh and bright in Auston’s ears.

Auston sighed happily.

“I’m so glad we’re together.”

Mitch turned back and looked at him and grinned, literal sunshine incarnated. “Me too, Aus.”

Auston’s heart swelled even more and he pressed a brief kiss to the corner of Mitch’s lips before pressing another one to his hair.

“We’ll always be together,” Mitch added with a sweet caress to Auston’s hand.

The truth of those words was paramount. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really should've studied more for my chem quiz. I love making bad decisions.


	7. don't take this the wrong way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Have I been replaced?” he teased, trying to climb back into Auston’s arms. Auston quickly threw the cushion away with a displeased noise from Mitch and beckoned Mitch to fall into his embrace.
> 
>  
> 
> “Come on man,” Mitch whined, “I’m going to have to pick that up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates are cool. Next week is Thanksgiving weekend so more days to write! Wow! School is bs, don't do IB it's bad for you. Auston and Mitch are in for some fun this chapter. Ha.
> 
> There are trigger warnings in this chapter, so please make sure to check the end-notes if you're worried. As always, click away if you find anything too concerning. 
> 
> Have fun people.

 

Mitch’s eyelids fluttered open as he woke up. The TV shone in front of him with a “are you still watching Netflix” screen. He felt a strong and warm presence plastered onto his back and looked around. He found himself face to face with Auston’s relaxed visage, still slack with slumber. They must’ve fallen asleep while watching Mitch’s show. Auston always looked so different in his sleep. His usual bored and detached countenance was replaced by this innocence that Mitch had never seen before. It was true. People did look ten years younger in their sleep. 

 

Mitch tried to unwrap himself from the tight hold Auston had on his waist to go to the washroom. He was able to get most of his upper-body out before Auston woke up.

 

“Mitch,” he slurred, still sleep-drunk, trying to hold on to Mitch as if he was going to leave forever.

 

“It’s okay, Aus, I’m just going to the washroom,” Mitch said softly and fully moved out of Auston’s grasp. Auston groaned and grabbed a cushion from the couch and squeezed it tightly before turning around. Mitch smiled gently and ran for the washroom, not minding the total darkness his apartment was currently shrouded in. He quickly finished his business before returning to the living room. 

 

“Have I been replaced?” he teased, trying to climb back into Auston’s arms. Auston quickly threw the cushion away with a displeased noise from Mitch and beckoned Mitch to fall into his embrace. 

 

“Come on man,” Mitch whined, “I’m going to have to pick that up.” 

 

Auston smirked with his eyes closed, “Exercise is key, Mitchy.” 

 

Mitch huffed and grabbed his phone off the coffee table. 

 

“It’s like, ten o’clock now.”

 

“And?”

 

“Shouldn’t you be going now?” Mitch asked mildly, scrolling through his Instagram. 

 

Auston squinted, “why?” 

 

“Because you have a game tomorrow! That’s why!”

 

“So what?”

 

“So shouldn’t you be getting some rest, I don’t know, getting in the right mentality?” 

 

“Aw, Mitch, I’m always in the right mentality with you,” Auston joked and pressed a quick kiss to Mitch’s cheek, squishing him against his chest. 

 

“That’s adorable Aus, but come on,” Mitch smiled and turned to face Auston. “You have to get sufficient rest, you know. I don’t want you to run out of gas in the middle of the second period.” 

 

Auston scoffed and turned his head away for a brief moment, “When have you ever known me to run out of gas?” He said the phrase as if personally offended him. 

 

“I mean,” Mitch smiled slyly. 

 

“Shut up, Mitchy, just let me stay with you for the night. Please?” Auston pleaded. 

 

“I don’t know Aus, are you gonna keep your hands to yourself?” Mitch chirped, getting up to turn the lights on. 

 

“We both know you’re the one who’s gonna have trouble doing it,” Auston grumbled, getting up to trail after Mitch. 

 

Mitch laughed, “Of course you can stay over, Matts. I’d love to have you in my bed.” He turned around and grabbed Auston’s hand. He led them both into his bedroom before rifling through one of his drawers. 

 

“Here,” Mitch started, “you can sleep in this.” 

 

“Is that my shirt?” Auston asked with a small smile, a hint of malice within it. 

 

“Of course not,” Mitch dismissed, turning his head away with a flourish. They both know he was lying. If he was wearing the shirt, it would swallow him up. 

 

Mitch smiled again, letting Auston know that he was mostly joking. 

 

They both showered, taking longer than necessary before brushing their teeth. 

 

Mitch quickly jumped in his bed, limbs spread apart like a starfish. Auston smiled, endeared.

 

“Move over, Marns,” he said. “Where’s my spot?” 

 

“Nope, none for you. It’s too comfy,” Mitch replied, face muffled by the comforter. 

 

“Get under the covers at least,” Auston laughed and pulled the fabric from under Mitch. He quickly slid in, smug. 

 

Mitch pouted, shaken from his original spot on his bed. He got off the bed. He glared at Auston without any heat for a quick second before climbing in as well. He slid down on his side and faced Auston, pulling the covers tighter around his shoulders. Auston propped his head up with his arm and stared into Mitch’s eyes. Brown meeting blue. 

 

“Why are your eyes so pretty, Mitchy?” Auston said, moving a hand to cup Mitch’s face. 

 

“Not as pretty as yours,” Mitch smiled, Auston’s thumb coming to graze Mitch’s lips. Mitch slowly snuck his tongue out and licked Auston’s thumb. Auston’s eyes darkened as he increased the pressure his thumb was putting on Mitch’s pretty mouth. Mitch put his lips around Auston’s thumb and started sucking. 

 

“Mitch,” Auston started, voice dark. “Don’t start what you can’t finish.”

 

“We have plenty of time,” Mitch grinned wickedly, moving a hand to palm at the skin underneath Auston’s shirt. 

 

Auston pulled Mitch towards him and eagerly kissed him, lips bruising and teeth nipping. Mitch moaned in pleasure, always one for rough-housing. Mitch put a hand on Auston’s head as if tasting the same air wasn’t enough for him. Auston moved away from Mitch and admired him. Mitch’s lips were spit-slick and red, cheeks flushed and eyes glossy. Auston smirked at Mitch before moving down to Mitch’s neck, biting down with power. 

 

***

 

Mitch woke up to bruises on his body. He’s not surprised. There’s a soothing ache that runs through his muscles and the only thoughts in his head are of Auston. Who is gone at the moment. Mitch turned around and checked his dresser. Sure enough, a note in his neat handwriting sat there.  _ I had to go to practice, see you at the game _ . 

 

It was what Mitch expected. 

 

He smiled to himself as he entered the bathroom, Auston’s bite on his neck had taken a deep burgundy colour. He stared at the mirror as he tenderly pressed two fingers on it, the brief pain a reminder of the night they had. 

 

_ “You’re mine, Mitch,” Auston panted, thrusting languidly into Mitch.  _

 

_ Mitch moaned. He snaked a hand into Auston’s hair and pulling him down for a sloppy kiss. “Always yours.”  _

 

His phone rang from the other room, the generic ringtone blasting through the air. It was Patty. 

 

“What’s up, Patty?” Mitch greeted as he put his phone on speaker.

 

_ “There’s been a homicide,”  _ Patty replied. Mitch sighed.

 

“Where is it?”

 

_ “Leslie and Sheppard East, I’ll be at your apartment in ten minutes. Get ready, I have breakfast.” _

 

“Okay see yo—” Patty hung up. Wow. That was rude. 

 

Ten minutes later, Mitch was strapped into Patty’s front seat with a cup of coffee from Tim Hortons’ and a steaming breakfast sandwich. Double double all the way baby. 

 

“Can you tell me what happened now?” Mitch asked as Patty pulled out of the tiny pick up area. 

 

“Well, a body was found by several civilians who were walking along the East Don Parkland. It was in the river. They alerted the police twenty-five minutes ago, and now we’re here,” Patty informed him. 

 

“That’s great. Now we have to work on this and the stupid Curran case.” He was refusing to call the killer the Angel of Death. That was appeasing him too much. 

 

“Yeah,” Patty sighed, “I know. The press is going to get a hold of this soon. We better not let those civilians out of our eyes until we know every last detail. And pray that they didn’t touch the body.”

 

“Patty, ew. I don’t think many people would willingly touch a corpse,” Mitch scrunched up his nose. 

 

“You never know,” Patty shrugged. Mitch reached to turn the radio up.

 

It was a good thirty minutes before they were able to get to the North side of Toronto, North York to be exact. Mitch finished the last bite of his breakfast sandwich and threw it out into the garbage can. He stepped over the yellow police tape blocking the entrance of the trail from civilians. A few regular cop cars were scattered around in the parking lot, including Marty’s. Mo and Kappy were set to arrive in a few more minutes as well. 

 

Mitch and Patty made their way down to the bridge where the hikers first found the body. It was strange that they were hiking in this weather. It was cloudy and cold, snow covering most of the trees and ground. The East Don River was still flowing steadily beneath their feet as they stepped on to the bridge. It was slippery.

 

“Be careful, Mitchy!” Patty exclaimed as Mitch almost tumbled off of the bridge as he lost his footing from the wet wood. 

 

“I’m okay!” he shouted, clutching at Patty’s arm. “Thanks Patty.”

 

Patty sighed in concern, Mitch was going to be the death of him. Mitch walked over to the left side of the bridge and looked over the edge. The body rested on the right side of the bank, washed up and banging against the current. It was bloated and green, foam leaking from every orifice. From this vantage point, it looked a lot like a man’s body. Though they wouldn’t be sure unless they got up close to it. There was already a forensic photographer on the scene, snapping up photos like a vulture to prey. 

 

“Let’s go down!” Mitch suggested, already in motion to the other side of the bridge. 

 

“Just don’t fall again,” Patty said in response and set off after him. 

 

“I didn’t fall last time,” Mitch argued, stepping down into the dead grass covered in snow. His socks were going to be soaking after this. 

 

“You had to hold on to my arm,” Patty refuted, being careful as to not get wet.

 

“Doesn’t mean I fell,” Mitch huffed, finally reaching the flat ground as the small hill transitioned into the riverbank. 

 

They walked the few meters to the body and looked at it. It was a man alright. The man had tattoos, but what once hugged his muscles tightly now looked distorted and disturbing as the skin started to move. The man’s bald head was battered with wounds due to rocks and sediments from the current. More wounds of the type could be seen on his body. However, no other physical wounds could be seen on the body. Perhaps a drug overdose. Gang death, maybe?

 

“This is going to be fun,” Mitch said sarcastically, turning to Patty.

 

“Yeah,” Patty sighed. “I don’t even know who this person is. Drug overdose?”

 

“I guess so,” Mitch hummed. His phone buzzed in his jacket pocket. He took it out.

 

_ Aus <3, SAT 9:28 AM _

_ you’re coming to the game right _

 

Shit. Mitch forgot about that. But the game was going to start at seven. That was in nine hours. He’d probably make it in time. They didn’t have any leads yet, anyways. 

 

**_yah, ofc. I’ll be there support youuu_ ** , he typed back along with a string of pink heart emojis. 

 

“Stop talking to Auston,” Patty scolded. “You’re on the clock.”

 

“Okay, okay! I just finished replying, geez,” Mitch complained and put his phone away. “Are we going to go talk to the hikers now?”

 

“Yeah, let’s go. They’re back at the parking lot.”

 

They trekked back to the parking lot. Mitch couldn’t help but admire the rushing stream, clear current pushing over mossy rocks and creating a pattern that was truly captivating. The fast and strong velocity surprised Mitch. If he stared long enough, it felt like he would fall in. 

 

The couple who found the body looked like health nuts. But in a good way. They were an older couple and looked to be in great shape. The woman, Andrea Stahl, was wearing a vest jacket over an insulated sweater and tights. Meanwhile, her husband, Michael Stahl, was wearing a warm hoodie with sweatpants and a toque. 

 

“How did you come about the body, ma’am?” Mitch asked, looking to take down notes. 

 

“Well, Michael and I were on our weekly stroll here. It’s such a pretty place to go for a walk. Walking is really good for your health. And another great way to keep your health up is drinking smoothies! Sometimes I make mine with kale and spinach with a lot of fruit! It’s super simple and tastes good too,” Mrs Stahl rambled as she stared Mitch and Patty intently in the eyes.

 

“Really? I really like smoothies too! But I just need a bit more information about the crime scene. Was there anything that you noticed at the crime scene? You know what, if we finish quick here, maybe we can go get some smoothies,” Mitch suggested, trying to keep the conversation on track. Patty smiled and nodded, trying to seem kinder. 

 

“Oh, of course!” Mrs Stahl replied, charmed.

 

“What Andrea’s trying to say, is that we were walking on the bridge when I saw a weird shape on the bank. I got really curious and I peeked over the edge. And I saw the man’s body. But I didn’t want Andrea to see because she gets very nauseous. Gore isn’t good for her,” Mr Stahl clarified, clearly understanding his wife’s ability to go off on tangents. 

 

“Was there anything in particular that you noticed?” Patty asked.

 

“No,” Mr Stahl shrugged, “I just didn’t want the details, you know? It’s horrible that this would happen in the first place.”

 

“Oh, the poor dear! I know it was very disrespectful of me to completely disregard his body, but I just can’t handle the blood and such! I hope he does well in the afterlife,” Mrs Stahl commiserated, looking dejected.

 

“It’s alright ma’am, you’re doing the right thing here. Telling us all this important information really helps us in figuring out what really happened to the man. Maybe we could bring justice for him,” Mitch replied sincerely. Mrs Stahl reached for his hands and clasped them. Mitch held on just as tightly. 

 

“Oh thank you, my dear. You’re such a kind person. If there’s anything else you need to know, we’ll gladly help you,” Mrs Stahl smiled warmly. Mitch thought she was a wonderful woman. 

 

“Thank you, Mrs Stahl,” Mitch replied with a gentle smile. 

 

“Oh, please, call me Andrea.”

 

“Thank you both for the information,” Patty stepped in. “I think we have everything we need for now. If there’s anything you’d like us to do, we’re always here for you. Just send us a call.” Patty reached into his coat pocket and handed Mr Stahl a business card. 

 

“Thank you, as well,” Mr Stahl replied. 

 

As Mitch and Patty walked away from the waving couple, there was a sense of dread in the air. Not only did they have to deal with the ongoing Angel of Death bullshit that had no real leads, but they also had to figure out this probable homicide as well. Maybe it was just an overdose and the man was sitting near the river banks. Probably not. 

 

“Could this be a suicide?” Mitch asked Patty as he looked back at him. Mo and Kappy had arrived and they decided to consult them first before leaving.

 

“I don’t think so,” Patty hummed, “I don’t think they found any sleeping pills or illegal substances near here. Maybe in the river, but that would be a stretch,”

 

“Gangs?” Mitch questioned, snow crunching beneath his feet, 

 

“That’s more likely. Maybe he screwed something up and got punished. That seems like a very irregular method of killing though. A bullet to the head seems more expected,”

 

“That’s true… Have you guys got anything?” Mitch shouted downwards as they got closer to Kappy and Mo, both of which were down near the body collecting samples. 

 

“The water screwed the decomposition rate up, but I think we’re still looking at a week before when the man died. There’s adipocere here. It’s a waxy substance formed from fats in the body, so that’s why it’s still bloated and hard-ish,” Mo answered from his squatting position. 

 

“That’s gross. But kinda cool,” Mitch remarked. 

 

“Mainly cool,” Kappy corrected, just standing off the side to Mo.

 

“You should be working,” Mo deadpanned. 

 

“Yeah, Kappy, you should,” Mitch teased back.

 

“Okay then, I see we need to go now, before the children start fighting,” Patty said. “We’ll see you guys back at the department.”

 

***

 

Mitch had gone to a few of his games over the past few months. Each time he went, he would get a seat right behind their bench. When Auston would line up and get ready to go on the ice, Mitch would be there hanging over the right side of the tunnel. Always ready with a giant smile. It was like his good luck charm now. If Mitch was going to be at his game, he always needed to see that smile before he stepped onto the ice. 

 

But this game against the Sabres, Mitch wasn’t there. He was supposed to be. Auston had texted him just to make sure. But now he wasn’t. And the anger just began to bubble. There was this unease under his skin, irritation that Mitch would just brush his game off like that. As if Auston wasn’t important enough for him. Mitch was  _ Auston’s _ . He would do whatever Auston said. 

 

All throughout the game, there was a livewire in his body, in his brain. He was agitated and tense. He couldn’t settle down. The thought of Mitch was always in the back of his head. He was jumpy during most of the first and second periods, Babcock yelling at him on the bench. Auston didn’t hear him. He didn’t want to. And during the last period, he just snapped. 

 

They were down three-one in the last few seconds of the game. Everyone was bunched up near the Sabres’ net, all trying to get a shot in. Ristolainen accidentally pushed back into him and that was it. Auston was furious. He used his stick at first, trying to hit Ristolainen with the length of it. It escalated into headlocks and chokeholds, but with refs trying to get a hold of him, it didn’t go too well. Auston couldn’t feel anything except for the burning rage inside of him. Ristolainen was just an excuse to get rid of all the feelings he felt for Mitch. 

 

When they got back to the locker room, Freddie entered and sent a deadly glare towards Auston. The disappointment was real. Did Auston care? Absolutely not. Mitch wasn’t going to get away with this.

 

***

 

Mitch’s trek back to his apartment was tiring, to say the least. After working a total of twelve hours straight on both the Angel of Death murder (stupid fucking nickname) and Don Parkland murder, Mitch was completely drained. He spent hours at his desk trying to find out the identity of the dead man. His back hurt. There was also the argument/discussion he had with Patty, Mo, and Kappy about the cause of death. The argument was mostly between him and Kappy and it was more fun than sitting at his desk. But his throat now hurt. 

 

He turned the TV on, coincidentally catching the last few minutes of the Leafs game. 

 

The Leafs game. Fuck! He told Auston he would be at the game today. Mitch groaned out loud. He had totally forgotten, along with eating dinner. It’s okay, he didn’t think Auston would be too mad about it. 

 

On the screen, Auston started going at Ristolainen. Oh fuck. That was not a smart move. Mitch was going to rail him when he got back. But he couldn’t say that it wasn’t hot. 

 

He closed his eyes for a second. And was woken up by a loud bang from the front door being slammed shut. Mitch jumped up, heart beating like crazy. He had fallen asleep. And someone broke into his apartment. Fuck! Why did he forget to lock the door?

 

“Mitch, what the fuck?” Auston’s familiar voice rang out in his apartment, loud and booming like his foot-steps. 

 

“Auston? I thought someone broke into my apartment, thank god,” Mitch sighed as he laid back down. TSN was still playing on the TV.

 

“Are you fucking kidding me? Did you actually watch the fucking game at home instead of coming in person? Are you trying to get me angry?” Auston boomed, not yet shouting. 

 

“What are you talking about? I was at work! Something came up, I totally forgot about the game. I’m so sorry, Auston. I didn’t know it would be this big of a deal for you,” Mitch apologized, shifting slightly on the couch.

 

“So now I’m not important to you? I’m sorry that you forgot about your fucking boyfriend over some shitty thing you had to do at work!” Auston yelled. His face looked completely livid and red. Mitch could feel his own emotions rising.

 

“Shut the fuck up Auston. Did we ever specify what we were? No. So stop being so whiny. There’s been another homicide, so it was also really fucking important. I can’t sacrifice everything in my life for you, Auston. I’m a police officer! These are people’s lives we’re talking about!” Mitch shouted, chest heaving. 

 

“Don’t even play around Mitch, I know you didn’t think I was important enough,” Auston scoffed. 

 

That was it.

 

“Get out,” Mitch said quietly.

 

“What?” Auston’s face completely changed as the surprise hit him.

 

“Get the fuck out!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:
> 
> A man's dead body (minor character) is found by an elderly-ish couple (also minor characters). There is a description of the dead body, as always, not in too much detail.
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for reading again, guys. Next chapter's almost done. Hopefully, we'll get to the fun stuff kind of soon. We're almost there! 
> 
> Oh. Spotify playlist. Yay or nay?


	8. just don't look underneath us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Marty,” Mitch said.
> 
> “Yeah, Mitchy?” Marty said gently.
> 
> “I told you something bad was going to happen.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Few orders of business before we get down to... business?
> 
> Remember when I said I'd be free during Thanksgiving? Jokes. I lied. I'm busy. I probably won't be able to write much then, so I'm posting this now.
> 
> IMPORTANT. There may be like very mild trigger warnings, like very brief descriptions of a dead body. Needles? But not really. I won't put it in the endnotes because I'm lazy and it's not that spoilery.
> 
> Okay, next. I made a Spotify playlist? You can have a listen [here!](https://open.spotify.com/user/a.sang1/playlist/06eNDTE6KMkZ7MfK4fCBrx) I put it on shuffle whenever I write for this.
> 
> In addition, for all the people who actually enjoy classical music, there's an etude by Chopin that's just like perfect for the mood of this fic. [It's](https://youtu.be/90mDBiAkSI0) awesome. The player does such a great job, it's actually so hard to play. 
> 
> Okay, now that I've finished everything I have to say, have fun reading!

“Fucking fine!” Auston replied harshly, walking briskly back to the door before pulling it open and slamming it shut. He leaned back against it, breathing heavily with anger and adrenaline. Only Mitchy got get him to react this way. 

 

As he stood in the hallway of Mitch’s condo, he had to stop and think. Did he really fucking scream at Mitch just because he forgot to go because a case came up? Not that Auston cared someone died, but it was Mitch’s job. The media would screw him over if he wasn’t on the case as soon as possible. And they would rip him apart. Toronto media everywhere was a menace. Did he really want Mitch to suffer? Next time, he was going to hurt whoever talked trash about Mitchy. Maybe he’d even hurt the person who gave Mitch so much work to do. Why the fuck were they making it so hard for Auston to be with Mitch? 

 

Now, thinking about the way he reacted made him want to die a little. He caused so much hurt to Mitchy.  _ His  _ Mitchy. This wasn’t who he was supposed to be.

 

He turned around quickly and knocked on the door a little before turning the handle cautiously. He stepped in the door and called out, “Mitch?”

 

“I told you to get out,” Mitch’s muffled voice echoed through the open space. He was buried in a sea of blankets on the sofa. 

 

“I’m so sorry, Mitchy. Fuck. I just realised how shitty I sounded,” Auston said, closing the apartment door behind him. Déjà vu to last night. 

 

“Yeah, I know you fucking are. As you should be,” Mitch replied tauntingly, not budging from his hiding spot. He was going to be petty until it killed him.

 

“I know. I just thought too much of myself, you know. I really wanted to see you there tonight,” Auston sighed. He slumped onto the couch as well, testing Mitch to see what he would permit him to do. 

 

Mitch only huffed. But he didn’t move or say anything else. 

 

“Next time, be more empathetic.”

 

_ What the fuck,  _ Auston thought to himself,  _ I don’t even know what that feels like. _

 

“I know, Mitchy,” Auston murmured softly, stroking Mitch’s hair - the only part of his body exposed. 

 

“I’m still fucking mad,” Mitch clarified as he allowed Auston into his makeshift cocoon. 

 

“I know, Mitchy,” Auston grimaced wryly. He was just glad Mitch let him hold him. If Mitch denied physical contact, then Auston would know he really fucked up.

 

“Shut up Auston, just fucking hold me,” Mitch retorted, his tone like sharp, algific ice shards hurling towards Auston. Auston winced and complied. He snuggled in deeper and hoped Mitch wouldn’t turn his wrath upon Auston.

 

*** 

 

A few days passed after their first argument, and Auston left to go on that ten-day road trip. Not that Mitch minded. Fuck Auston Matthews. 

 

It was December 21st. Christmas was in four days. That would be spent with his family. But everyday else? Working on his fucking cases. Today was a Sunday. He didn’t need to go into the office, but he thought it would be for the best. He wasn’t going to go in with Patty, though. He deserved the break with his family. 

 

Usually, during the mornings, Mitch would snap a weird photo of his face in a contorted position and send it to Auston. But today was not one of those days. He was going to wait for the asshole to send  _ him _ a snap first, before opening it and not responding. Mitch was not going to reply no matter what. After the snap, Mitch would  _ then _ text Auston a good morning, usually followed by obscure emojis that depended on his mood. Again, not happening. Auston could wish himself a good morning. So Mitch decided to text up Mo, telling him that he was going to go into the department that day. He figured he’d just give Mo a heads up, in case he was going to be there himself. Mo replied with a thumbs up. Okay. He was probably there then.

 

Mitch decided to go down to Timmy’s to grab breakfast, instead of making it himself. He was allowed to be lazy for a day. 

 

When he arrived at the department, it was quiet compared to a normal weekday. Mitch found it weird. It was one of the reasons he didn’t like going into the department unless someone accompanied him during the weekends. Maybe he could do his work in the lab with Mo. Sounds like a good plan. He hauled his messenger bag down to the laboratory and hoped Mo wouldn’t mind his presence. 

 

“Mo?” Mitch called out quietly as he pushed the door open.

 

“What’s up, Mitchy?” Mo responded as he turned around in his protective garb, trying not to tarnish evidence he seemed to be working with. 

 

“Not much, just thought I’d come down and keep you company,” Mitch grinned. Maybe if he put on his charm, Mo would let him stay.

 

Mo smiled wryly, “Okay then. It’s not like you don’t know what I’m working on anyway.”

 

Mitch fist-pumped silently and tried hard not to crowd Mo. He was currently working on the dead body found at the East Don Parkland.

 

“Oh, I forgot to tell you, we were able to pick up Sanchez’s wallet. There’s some ID in there. You can look through it if you want, just put on some gloves,” Mo remarked. He was starting to puncture a needle into one of the arteries in the man’s thigh. Oh god, Mitch didn’t want to see that. Forensic pathologists were crazy. 

 

“Yeah, okay. Beats looking at you picking apart that body,” Mitch shuddered and grabbed a plastic bag sitting on one of the lab benches. Mo only hummed and focused on his task at hand. 

 

Mitch grabbed a pair of disposable gloves and opened the bag. It had been labelled with the case number and evidence type. He took a leather wallet that looked like an imitation. It was dark brown and well-worn from the water. He opened it up and found a five dollar bill as well as some credit cards, a health card and driver’s license. All of them belonged to Turiau Sanchez. Judging by his ID photos, this was him. Turiau Sanchez was the one that had been murdered. If he was actually murdered.

 

“So what are you doing now?” Mitch asked, after having enough of the wallet.

 

“Just taking some blood samples. We’ll get it to toxicology, see if we can find anything. I don’t think it’d be that easy though. I’ll definitely need to collect urine samples as well,” Mo replied after drawing out the blood he needed.  

 

That sounded so gross. Mitch didn’t hesitate to tell Mo that. 

 

“Shut up Mitchy, it’s actually quite interesting,” Mo said without any heat.

 

Mitch made a face and stuck his tongue out in an imitation of disgust. He sat down in Mo’s office and took out his laptop. Turiau Sanchez. He would search him up later and find his family members. But now, he wanted to work on the Angel of Death case. It was pulling at him. He needed to figure it out. He just couldn’t stop pondering about it. Maybe he’ll go over the security tape again. Maybe there was something he missed. 

 

He went through the lobby footage again but didn’t find anything of use. The same could be said about the elevator footage. But then he had a revelation. The side entrances! How did they forget to check that? He hoped the media would never catch the scent of this, or else they were really never going to be out of the spotlight. 

 

There were two more entrances for the general public on the east and west side of the building, that they had forgotten to check. He endured another sped up night of footage for the east entrance and noticed nothing. But something suspicious came up at the west entrance. A resident of the building was entering the building after using her key fob, but then a man clad in all black hurried behind her. His hood was up and the camera never caught his face. He seemed questionable. His body looked bulky and strong even under the hoodie and sweatpants he was wearing. He must have been over six feet tall as well. A match to the limited description of the killer’s profile. A young, strong man. That was it.

 

The time at the bottom indicated it was around seven pm when he entered. But he couldn’t find any footage of the man leaving the building or even going up to Orson’s floor. Bastard must’ve taken the stairs. At least now he was able to progress a little bit with the case. 

 

So he decided to work on the Sanchez case instead. He already had the address of Sanchez’s residence, it was there on his driver’s license. Next, he could look up his name in the CPIC and then try to find his emergency contacts. The man looked like he had ties to gangs, so past criminal activity seemed likely. But, the perpetrator still had to be put behind bars. Mitch decided that he would try and find Sanchez’s emergency contacts later. He could do that with Patty on Monday, then go in and question them. 

 

His phone’s screen lit up with a snap notification from Auston. He was in Detroit for his first game later on that night. Fucking asshole. Mitch pondered whether or not he should open it before doing so out of curiosity. Fuck Auston and his ability to make Mitch only able to think about him. His snap was a shaky video that zoomed in on a window of an apartment that somehow had a man stuck inside of it. It looked like it was taken from within a bus. It was captioned “ _ this guy tried to break into someones apartment and got stuck _ ” with multiple laughing emojis. It was followed by a shitty picture of a closeup of Auston’s face, “ _ imu _ ” labelled beneath it. Dick. Mitch wasn’t gonna respond.

 

Mitch lied. He responded. He took a selfie of himself flipping Auston off. That made him happy. 

 

***

 

On Monday, Mitch woke up feeling pretty good. Auston being stupid didn’t bother him that much anymore. At least he apologized. He had been asking Mitch to facetime him like he would during his past road trips but Mitch had been too angry to do so last night. So he agreed to do it today. The Leafs didn’t have a game until Wednesday, so Mitch wouldn’t be disturbing Auston’s schedule too much. Well, Auston wanted to speak to him first, so. It really didn’t matter even if Mitch messed up Auston’s sleeping arrangement. 

 

Mitch unlocked his phone and checked his personal email. He had put a google alert up for Tattle Crime and received an email update. This time, it was an article titled “Angel of Death Case Still Unsolved, Marner and Marleau Unable to Make Headway: BREAKING NEWS, Homicide in North York”. Mitch was so fucked. He opened up the article. 

 

_ Mitchell Marner and Patrick Marleau are still unable to progress in the Angel of Death murder. Orsan Curran was brutally murdered by an unknown individual on October 16, almost two months ago. Why the detectives have not identified any suspects or informed the public of any leads is unknown. But it can be inferred to be due to the incompetence of the younger detective, Mitchell (Mitch) Marner. Marner is only currently 26 years old and has only worked with the homicide unit of Toronto for 2 years. Something has to be said about the way Marner is handling the case. Perhaps he just isn’t ready for big cases like this. _

 

_ Furthermore, 2 days ago, another body was found at the East Don Parkway in North York. The area is close to Bayview Village and Fairview Mall, where many civilians currently reside near. The body was identified to be a man and was said to be found an elderly couple who happened to be walking along the trail. The body also happened to be submerged in the East Don River when found. It is unclear whether or not this homicide is related to the Angel of Death murder, but we are doing everything we can to find out. Marner and Marleau have once again been tasked to report on this case. Whether or not they actually solve the case is unknown. But based on their success rate with the Angel of Death Murder, we suspect they will have a hard time figuring this case out as well.  _

 

Jesus Christ. The reporter really went off this time. This was going to ruin Mitch’s career forever. His phone buzzed as Patty’s daily text message of his arrival flashed upon the screen. Mitch sighed and felt the unease rise to his chest again. Anxiety was going to consume him raw today.

 

“Patty, we’re all gonna die,” Mitch greeted as he climbed into the passenger’s seat of Patty’s car.

 

“Don’t be like that, Mitchy. Nothing even happened yet,” Patty said back. He was kind of taken aback by Mitch’s blatant pessimism this early on in the day. It was a total shift from his usual enthusiastic cheer.

 

“Did you check the news?” Mitch asked, eyes wide as he stared at Patty.

 

“No, I didn’t get a chance to,” Patty glanced at Mitch.

 

“They wrote another fucking article about us,” Mitch said. 

 

“Who?” Patty raised an eyebrow. 

 

“Tattle Crimes, who else? Some person named Megan Blaese wrote the article. Goddammit, she’s making our job way harder than it should be,” Mitch pouted. 

 

“Come on, Mitch. It’ll be alright. Where’s your usual optimism?” Patty asked.

 

“It’s gone. It’s been a rough weekend,” Mitch sighed. He collapsed against the car window. 

 

“What happened?” 

 

“Auston was being shitty. He got mad at me for missing a game because we had to work on that stupid case,” Mitch huffed.

 

“That’s not cool. Do you want Marty to beat him up?” Patty suggested, with a tough look on his face.

 

“No,” Mitch sighed again, “just leave him be. I’m not that angry anymore.”

 

“If Auston Matthews does something like that again, I don’t care if he’s the ‘saviour of Toronto’, I will personally knock all of his front teeth out,” Patty stated, sounding resolute. 

 

“Dude, now you sound like Marty. You gotta chill out,” Mitch said. 

 

“I’ll ‘chill out’ when Auston isn’t being a dick,” Patty deadpanned.

 

“Oh fuck,” Mitch said as he turned his attention elsewhere, “we’re so screwed.” There was a crowd of reporters surrounding the entrance of the police department. 

 

“Don’t be like that Mitchy,” Patty said, though he wasn’t feeling too good about the hoard of bodies either. “They don’t know what we look like, at least.” 

 

“Patty, no! There’s a thing called Google!” Mitch cried as Patty parked the car.

 

“Come on Mitchy, stop fooling around,” Patty admonished as he stepped out of the car and closed the door. 

 

Mitch groaned and follow suit, clutching his messenger tighter to his body. Maybe they’ll be lucky and no one would see them. That was such a joke. Everyone was going to see them. Mitch tried to duck his head through the crowd of reporters and journalists, but Patty just ploughed through them. 

 

“Hey! It’s Mitch Marner!” a voice within the crowd shouted. That was it before the rest of the reporters swarmed them both with their cameras and microphones. A myriad of voices started bombarding them both with questions.

 

“Mr Marner! How’s the Angel of Death case going?”

 

“What happened on Saturday?”

 

“Why are you still on the case, Mr Marner?” Wow, that one actually kind of hurt.

 

“Mr Marleau! Can you comment on your partner’s competence?” Wow, okay! The insults just kept coming!

 

“Why hasn’t there been any leads on the Angel of Death case? It’s been two months!”

 

And finally, “Why hasn’t anyone done anything about firing Marner?”

 

Oh god. Mitch felt his heart stop. He hugged his bag closer to his chest and tried to breathe normally. In, out. In, out. Hopefully, he wouldn’t do anything dumb, like start crying. He felt an arm tugging at him, and looked up. It was Marty with a concerned look on his face. Marty dragged him inside quickly, hoping to avoid the reporters. Mitch looked back to see Patty talking to one of the younger journalists with a stern and angry face. Bright flashes from cameras kept going off while gigantic video-cameras kept panning to Patty and him. 

 

“Marty,” Mitch said.

 

“Yeah, Mitchy?” Marty said gently.

 

“I told you something bad was going to happen.”

 

***

 

It was around eight in the evening. Auston had set a facetime time at eight thirty that day. He was in Washington for an off-day before a match the next night there. Mitch was ready to go to sleep. The whole fiasco with the media had made him tired before the morning was over. He had dragged his feet throughout the whole day. Patty made him leave at three. 

 

Despite that, they were able to make some progress on the Sanchez case. Turiau Sanchez had been a thirty-two-year-old man married to a Maria Sanchez. He was known to be a drug dealer and had been jailed for the possession of weed. That was two years ago. He had married his wife fourteen years ago and had a two-year-old son, Gabriel Sanchez. There had been rumours of domestic violence amongst the Sanchez family, but nothing concrete. Even though Sanchez was a drug dealer, there weren’t many people that were vindictive to him. He seemed to be likeable towards people. 

 

Mitch decided to stop thinking about the case. He turned on the TV for a bit of background noise before his call. It just so happened to be on CP24. Where, of course, the newscasters were talking shit about him.

 

_ “Well, Mitch Marner has been the talk among the city of Toronto for quite some time now,”  _ a woman in a white blouse and a bun started the conversation.

 

_ “He has. Patrick Marleau and he have been the lead detectives in the on-going Angel of Death case, and everyone and their mothers have an opinion on their progress on the case,”  _ her co-host, a young man dressed in a dark blue dress-shirt said. 

 

_ “What’s your opinion on him, Filip?” _

 

_ “Well, I think they’re both doing their best. It does seem like a hard case, not much evidence and no witnesses.” _

 

_ “But you really have to think about it. Is it really because of that or because of Marner’s age? He’s only twenty-six and there’s much he can learn! There must be other detectives that can do a better job.”  _ Filip looked at the woman funny.

 

_ “We have to be thankful of all the work that  _ both  _ the men are doing. It’s a very tough occu—” _

 

_ “But, honestly, is Mitch Marner really doing anythi—” _

 

That was all Mitch heard before his phone started ringing with an oncoming facetime from Auston. He let it ring for a few moments, just to make Auston feel on edge, before pressing “answer”.

 

“Mitchy,” Auston greeted. The screen showed the enormous top-half of his face. It looked like he was tucked into bed already.

 

Mitch made a noncommittal noise and stared at the screen. 

 

“Are you good?” Auston asked cautiously.

 

Mitch only made another noise, “It’s been pretty rough, Matts.”

 

“Rough, huh? Are those reporters giving you shit again? You better not be watching the news channel,” Auston replied, face scrunching up.

 

Mitch laughed in a fake manner.

 

“Of course I’m not watching the news,” he said as he tried to sneakily turn the TV off, “who do you take me for, Aus?”

 

“I dunno, but I don’t want you to be sad.” Auston frowned.

 

“Sure,” Mitch said, “I’m not sad.”

 

“But the reporters were so mean! Even Hyms and Willy have been saying how rude they’ve been. Freddie, as well, man.”

 

“Yeah, well,” Mitch sighed. “I’ll be alright. Just come back and cheer me up, then.”

 

“Aw, Mitchy. I wish,” Auston cooed. “I’ll be back in, like, a week. I won’t let you out of my sight then.”

 

“Yeah, okay,” Mitch agreed.

 

“Okay. You know the reporter who wrote that about you is wrong, right? Like, they have zero brains,” Auston said, his tone was flinty. There was something he was hiding. 

 

“I know,” Mitch pouted. 

 

“Good. You’re the kindest, sweetest, best person I have ever met.”

 

“Aw,” Mitch murmured, cheeks flushing slightly, “you like me.”

 

“Yeah, I like you,” Auston snorted. “I have for a while now.”

 

“Well, I like you too. Even if you’re an asshole, sometimes.” Auston smiled happily,

 

“Duly noted, Mitchy. Duly noted.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay Mitch isn't mad anymore. 
> 
>  
> 
> (And Leafs win on home opener? Good shit.)
> 
> I am looking forward to failing chem.


	9. if you were church, i'd get on my knees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He pressed an open-mouthed kiss along Mitch’s neck, not teasing or playful, just resting there as if his mark would be burned into Mitch’s skin like a brand upon leather. Mitch sighed contentedly as he patted Auston’s back soothingly. He slowly edged back and stared at Auston in the eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I actually had time to finish this. Happy Thanksgiving to all my fellow Canadians, have fun eating turkey and pie. 
> 
> I spent way too much time formatting this and now I want to die. 
> 
> No trigger warnings (?), please comment if I'm wrong!
> 
> Have fun, people!

After a day of Christmas celebrations, good food, and cheerful family members, Mitch felt like he was well-sated. He felt refreshed and well-rested, still feeding off of the vibrant energy of the people he loved. He had turned off the google alerts for the Angel of Death, he felt dumb just saying the nickname, in an effort to just calm down. Auston was going to be back in a few days and he was going to force him to hang out with him. For four days in a row. Because Mitch had been deprived of Auston Matthews contact for way too long. Which, you know, how did he live like this before? Without Auston Matthews? Seemed surreal.

Needless to say, heading back in the office made him want to rip all his hair out. Hair Auston could use. But fine. Mitch could pretend everything was fine. He could pretend he wasn’t working on a case that would make or break his career. He could pretend he wasn’t stressed the fuck out. And, oh yeah, what about those reporters camped outside the department? Mitch had no words. He really couldn’t pretend that all of those things weren’t happening, because they were. And screw Auston for making him feel even more things. Longing and anger were not cool.

But Mitch digressed.

After Mo and Kappy finished the blood and urine testing from Sanchez, traces of Alprazolam and alcohol was found in both. Alprazolam, more commonly known as Xanax, would be lethal when combined with alcohol. Therefore, it was suggested that the deadly mixture of Xanax and alcohol was what killed Sanchez. It could’ve been a suicide, except the place his body was found seemed very sketchy. He hadn’t been dressed for the weather either, wearing only a t-shirt and sweatpants.

Luckily, Patty and he finally obtained their search warrant, allowing them to actually go to the residence. Hopefully, they’d be able to catch his wife there.

Sanchez lived in a small, decrepit bungalow just North of where his body was dumped. That seemed very sus. His body could’ve been dumped at the discovered sight and been killed somewhere else. The odds for Sanchez’s wife were not so good at the moment.

Mitch and Patty walked up the stairs to Sanchez’s front porch, white paint rusted and peeling off the railings. Patty rang the washed out doorbell and waited. The door opened after a few minutes to a pretty woman with black curls and a sunken face.

“Hello Mrs Sanchez, I’m Inspector Marleau and this is Detective Marner. We’re both terribly sorry for your loss,” Patty started, holding up his badge while Mitch did the same.

“Oh yes,” Mrs Sanchez sobbed, eyes watering, “you’re the ones who are going to bring justice for my Turiau.” She beckoned them inside with a flimsy hand, wiping her eyes with a tissue. Her voice had a Spanish lilt to it, making her sound sophisticated and homely at the same time. However, Mitch felt like she was playing it up a bit too much.

The house, like the outside, was falling apart on the inside. Toys were scattered in the living room, water stains on the ceilings and paint revealed ugly stains on the walls. A lullaby was playing in a room that was further back in the house.

“My son, Gabriel, is just having a nap right now,” Mrs Sanchez explained, wringing her hands together worriedly.

“Do you mind if I have a look around, Mrs Sanchez?” Mitch asked politely, trying to play into the role of the more innocent younger detective.

“Of course Mr Marner, call me Maria. I think you’re doing a wonderful job on the Angel of Death case,” she said with a watery smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Patty and Mitch shared a glance before Mitch replied, “thank you, Maria.”

He started for the back of the house as Patty began to ask her some questions. He found two bedrooms that were across to each other in the hallway. One of which had the lullaby coming from it. Mitch decided not to disturb the poor sleeping child. He entered the “master bedroom” and looked around. Old sheets, old cabinets, old clothes. Nothing new. He looked at the bedside table and found Sanchez’s phone. Why hadn’t Maria turned this in as evidence? If Sanchez had his wallet on his body, then he probably would have been carrying his phone as well. They just suspected it was lost in the river but that was obviously not the case.

He made his way into the adjoining bathroom and peeked in one of the cabinets. There were a bunch of dusty cleaning supplies and soap. But hidden in the back, was an empty box that would’ve held a bottle of Xanax. Huh. The wife did it? It wouldn’t be surprising with the rumours going on. Mrs Sanchez giving her husband Xanax and alcohol would be an easy way to get rid of him. But where did she get it from? How did she dispose of the body? And why would she kill a source of income when now she would have to raise her son with a part-time waitress’s wage? But the evidence was there.

Mitch closed the cabinet quietly and walked back to the front of the house. Patty looked over his shoulder and saw him.

“Thank you for all the answers, Maria,” Patty smiled reassuringly before walking towards Mitch.

“Did you find anything?” he whispered to Mitch.

“There’s Xanax packaging in the bathroom cabinet,” Mitch whispered back, “it’s empty. And Sanchez’s phone is in the bedroom.”

“I knew there was something up,” Patty murmured. “She looked very nervous throughout. All her answers were short and tried to play upon how sad she was about her husband.”

“I mean,” Mitch drawled. “It’s kinda obvious now.”

“Okay, fine,” Patty muttered, “We’ll do confrontation, but follow my lead. I know how you like to get, and I don’t want to throw her off.”

Mitchy held his hands out in an effort to appease Patty.

Patty turned to Mrs Sanchez.

“Mrs Sanchez, my partner found an empty package of Xanax in your cabinet. May I ask where it came from?” Patty asked in a neutral tone.

“Oh, I have mild to severe anxiety issues, so the doctor prescribed me Xanax. It helps,” Mrs Sanchez smiled restlessly.

“Is that so? You finished all of it and didn’t go back for a refill?” Mitch pondered. Patty glared at him.

“Um,” Mrs Sanchez started, eyes darting between them, “I didn’t have time to go back. I only ran out recently, and I think I’ve been getting better.”

“Did you know your husband died of Xanax and alcohol poisoning?” Mitch added. Patty nudged him slightly with his shoulder and sent him a warning look.

“I didn’t, no one told me that.” Maria was practically sweating bullets.

“Is there something you’re not telling us, Maria?” Mitch asked, adding the final nail to the coffin. Mitch could practically feel the disapproval rolling off of Patty.

It visibly seemed like someone dropped a weight on Maria Sanchez. She looked much older than her thirty-two years, folding into herself with sallow looking skin. Mitch could see her shifting between options, telling the truth or digging herself into a bigger hole.

“Alright!” she cried, finally breaking down into real tears.

“I killed Turiau Sanchez,” she sobbed. “I just couldn’t deal with him hitting me and hurting Gabriel! It was too much! So what if I gave him a beer with Xanax? So what if he died? He was a shitstain upon the world!”

Mitch smiled internally. They got her. He pitied her desperation. Murder was an escape for her. How pathetic.

“Why was his body in the river, Maria?” Patty asked.

“I couldn’t let his body rot in this house! I got my brother to help dispose of it. The river was the best place,” she said dejectedly.

Mitch looked at Patty, _I told you it would work._

Patty knocked Mitch’s arm as subtly as he could, ignoring the woman breaking down in front of them. Mitch smiled.

***

Auston inhaled. It smelled like fresh snow and cool wind in Toronto. After a ten-day road trip across America in varying states of weather, Auston was a bit dismayed at the conditions of Toronto. However, it was a small fee to pay in order to see Mitch. His Mitch.

They landed back on the twenty-ninth, a Saturday morning. Two days have passed since then, with one of them being a practice day. He got caught up on all the local news and went to see Mitch once. The visit went great. Mitch told him about his success with the Sanchez case. He was so proud of Mitch finishing up the stupid case that made him mad at Auston in the first place.

_“Mitchy,” Auston breathed out, feeling like he was floating on air. The sight of Mitch’s too-big mouth stretched in that wide grin made Auston’s chest hurt._

_“Matts,” Mitch beamed, ditching the meal he was preparing on the kitchen counter and ran towards him. It looked kind of ridiculous, there were only a few metres between them._

_Mitch slammed into Auston as he wrapped two sinewy (muscle, Auston reminded himself) arms around Auston’s torso. The air inside Auston’s lungs was knocked out as he could only hold on to Mitch. He was breathless due to the impact and the fact that Mitch was actually here. He tucked his nose into the crook of Mitch’s neck and inhaled deeply - musk, cologne, and sweat reaching his nose. It was utterly Mitch and he couldn’t resist. He would never be able to resist Mitch._

_He pressed an open-mouthed kiss along Mitch’s neck, not teasing or playful, just resting there as if his mark would be burned into Mitch’s skin like a brand upon leather. Mitch sighed contentedly as he patted Auston’s back soothingly. He slowly edged back and stared at Auston in the eyes._

_So many different emotions were swirling in those blue-grey eyes; relief, happiness, longing, and hope. Auston felt like he was staring at Mitch in wonder. That wouldn’t do. So he leaned in, guided Mitch’s jaw with a lumbering hand while the other went to cup at Mitch’s waist, and kissed Mitch. The kiss started out slow, tongues brushing against each other almost timidly. It was like they were afraid to fall back into each other. That didn’t last long as the desire in Auston rose. He demanded control of Mitch’s mouth the instant he felt Mitch’s mood change. Lips pushed and pressed against lips with urgency, making up for all lost time. Auston pulled away to take a breath of air, not that he minded sharing Mitch’s oxygen._

_“Auston,” Mitch said, panting a little. His cheeks were a pretty pink. Flushed and warm._

_“Yeah?” Auston asked._

_“Don’t leave again,” Mitch sighed, purposely putting all of his weight on Auston._

_“Hey!” Auston laughed, moving quickly to prevent Mitch from falling, “I’ll try my best, Mitchy. No promises, though.”_

_Mitch grunted and slumped into Auston’s arms even more._

_“Come on, Mitch,” Auston smiled. “You know I don’t make the rules.”_

_Mitch only made a noise in agreement._

Being with Mitchy really opened something up in Auston. It was weird. He wanted to make Mitch happy, to make Mitch smile. It felt like fate. He and Mitch were meant to be. He was meant to be drafted by Toronto and bump into Mitch. He didn’t even believe in fate. That was how much Mitch had changed him. And he also realised that he would never want Mitch to be hurt. All the people who had caused Mitch to suffer would suffer as well. Including that bitch of a reporter who kept writing absolute bullshit about Mitch. She would get what was coming to her tomorrow. On New Year’s day. No celebration for her.

Auston knows that Mitch has been hurt. There was trauma hidden in the back of his eyes, the thing that initially drew Auston to Mitch. Before, he had wanted to be the cause of that pain. But now? Now he just wanted to make those people pay and take revenge. Whoever harmed Mitch would be harming Auston as well.

But first, he had to go celebrate New Year’s Eve with Mitch.

He rang the doorbell to Mitch’s apartment for the first time in a while. He wanted to be classy on New Year’s Eve. He had ditched his teammates’ requests for him to join them for a party that night. He refused their requests of bringing Mitch - he wanted some time to themselves without the crazy hockey players. He was already dreading the day when Mitch would meet Willy.

Mitch opened the door in sweatpants and a t-shirt, he looked comfy and sweet.

“Why’d you ring the doorbell?” Mitch asked with a smile and looked at Auston in the eye sincerely.

“It’s New Year’s,” Auston said as if that was explanation enough. “I brought champagne.”

“You brought champagne?” Mitch laughed as he herded Auston into the apartment, taking the bottle from Auston’s hands and inspecting it. “Are we the bourgeoisie, now?”

“Of course, babe,” Auston scoffed. “Though I’m surprised you actually know what that word means.” He smirked and tried to evade Mitch as he made a squawk of indignation and tried to swat Auston.

“I’ll have you know, I am an educated scholar,” Mitch said and upturned his head.

“Sure, Mitchy, and I don’t play hockey,” Auston laughed.

“You actually need brains to be a detective,” Mitch chirped as he smiled and set the champagne on the kitchen island.

“Uh,” Auston scoffed, “Remember who bought you that champagne.” Auston crossed his arms and tried to look taunting. He didn’t think it worked.

Mitch threw his head back and laughed loudly, pure joy bouncing around in the room and warming Auston’s soul. Auston wrapped an arm around Mitch and dragged him close.

“Alright,” Mitch said, cuddling even closer, “You get off this time.”

“I get off all the time,” Auston smirked and raised an eyebrow.

“Auston!” Mitch just laughed again and snuck a kiss on Auston’s collarbone.

“You know what we should do?” Mitch said after a while.

“What,” Auston replied, pulling Mitch into his lap as he sat down on one of the kitchen stools.

“We should turn the TV on and see the countdown,” Mitch suggested.

“Or we could’ve just gone to Nathan Phillips Square,” Auston said.

“It’s too cold!” Mitch interjected with a slap to Auston’s thigh.

“C’mon Mitchy, where’s the Canadian in your blood?”

“Auston,” Mitch stared pointedly.

“Okay, fine. It’s not like I could say anything otherwise,” Auston conceded as he stood up. Mitch yelped a bit as he was pushed off of Auston’s lap without warning.

They meandered down to the couch, Auston playfully grabbing at Mitch while he laughed and tried to scurry away. They made it onto the couch in a heap, collapsing onto it chaotically. Mitch managed to get a hand on the remote before they went tumbling upon it and ruining their backs in the process.

“I don’t understand why you didn’t go hang with the guys,” Mitch said as flipped to a channel covering Nathan Phillips Square live.

“I’m going to do that tomorrow anyway,” Auston said, “no reason for me to go today.”

“But I’m so boring,” Mitch complained.

“Must be getting old,” Auston dragged out.

“As if you’re much younger.”

Auston frowned.

“Hey look, the countdown’s gonna start in five minutes,” Auston

“Don’t distract me,” Mitch pouted but turned his attention to the screen anyways. “Wait! The champagne!” Mitch sprang up suddenly, displacing Auston from his comfy spot. He frowned for a second and that was all it took for Mitch to run back to the kitchen.

Auston sighed and stayed sitting. He was too lazy to go back to the kitchen.

“Matts!” Mitch yelled from the kitchen. “I can’t open it!”

“What do you mean?” Auston yelled back, poised to get up.

“It won’t open!” Mitch complained. Auston hurried back to the kitchen to find Mitch struggling to get the cork out of the opening.

Auston took the bottle from Mitch’s hands, “Let me try, Mitchy.”

He tried to twist to the cork with his bare hands, but it wouldn’t budge. He used the bottom edge of his hoodie to get a good grip on the cork and pulled. The cork came off with a “pop” and promptly began to spray everywhere.

“Oh shit!” Auston said and held the bottle away from his body, getting Mitch wet in the process.

“Auston!” Mitch yelped, trying to upright Auston’s hand. The bubbles fizzed out and left Auston with a wet bottle.

“Whoops,” Auston said, “At least I opened it?”

Mitch just started laughing.

In the living room, the faint sounds of the television could be heard.

_“And we’re ready to start counting down. 10! 9!”_

“Oh no, Aus! They’re starting the countdown already!” Mitch said, a bit distraught.

“Okay, wait, don’t worry!” Auston quickly took a swig from the champagne bottle and pulled Mitch close, kissing him just as the countdown reached zero. Auston opened his mouth, trying to transfer the champagne to Mitch. All of it dripped down their chins and shirts instead. Mitch raised a hand to his chin and broke the kiss, laughing. Auston’s eyes bugged out in return, swallowing the liquid quickly, bubbles tingling his throat. He took one look at Mitch and started laughing as well.

“Does this mean you’ll be mine for the rest of the year?” Auston asked cheekily.

“For sure,” Mitch replied, laughter in his smile and love in his eyes.

***

“Hello?” Mitch answered, an unknown phone number was calling him.

“Is this Mitchy?” a voice asked, a light exotic accent shining through perfect English.

“Uh, Mitch Marner?” Mitch replied. He wasn’t sure if this was some joke. Toronto reporters were still assholes.

“Oh yeah! I’m Willy,” the voice, Willy, said back cheerfully. There were a few shouts in the background.

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand?” Mitch didn’t know a Willy.

“Did Auston not tell you about me? Willy, William Nylander,” Willy responded.

Holy fuck. William Nylander was calling him.

“William Nylander?” Mitch’s voice came out high-pitched, disbelief and awe evident in his voice.

“Yeah, sorry, I stole your number from Auston’s phone.”

“Oh, no problem, William.”

“Please, call me Willy. I've got a feeling we’ll be great acquaintances,” Willy smirked. Mitch could feel a wave of smugness rolling off of him. But in a good way.

“Of course, uh, Willy,” Mitch said hesitantly. “Not to be rude, or anything, but why are you calling me?”

“Right! Is Auston there with you?”

“No,” Mitch replied suspiciously, “he said he was gonna hang out with some of the guys.”

“Oh. Well, he’s not here right now.” Willy sounded generally confused. What if Auston was cheating on him? That fucking asshole.

“He’s not here either,” Mitch moaned, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“Mitchy,” Willy started, already feeling bad for someone who was practically a stranger. “You know what, why don’t you come hang with us?”

“Um, what?” Mitch was stunned. One pro hockey player was okay, but a group of them?

“Yeah! It’ll be great! Everyone’s at my apartment right now. Gards, Hyms, Freddy, Naz. You name ‘em and they’re probably here!”

“Are you sure?” Mitch asked tentatively. He didn’t want to stay home by himself. Because then he would actually start to think about Auston. And him cheating. That would not be fun. He didn’t want to confront Auston yet, either.

“For sure, Mitchy! Come, don’t worry about Auston, he’s always a dick anyway,” Willy crowed enthusiastically.

“Alright, then. Just text me the address.”

***

Auston lied. He lied to Mitch and to Willy. Not that he minded lying to Willy, but lying to Mitch was a whole other story. He wasn’t going to hang out with Willy or the other guys. He was going to do something for Mitch. Something that should’ve been done a long time ago.

Megan Blaese was going to die.

She deserved it for fucking with Mitch. There was nothing standing in the way of Auston’s triumph, knowing he had protected Mitch made a sense of pride and warmth swell in his heart. There was that anticipation sitting his veins again. The urge to kill and to defend was at the forefront of his brain. Gone were the days where Mitch would have to endure Megan’s harsh and false words.

This was their world now. So what if Auston had a little fun?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's that. Why is Mitch always so sus. Like. Chill man. 
> 
> I've been thinking about going to a Leafs game for my birthday, and I was wondering if anyone knew a good website to buy tickets? Somewhere cheap? Please comment or send me a message on tumblr (@thnksfrthanxiety) if you do!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	10. make me feel like i am breathing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Most of the guys who were more interested in his love life were staring at both Mitch and him. Some of them (Hyms and Brownie) were being discrete while others (Freddie, Naz, and JT) were outright watching them as if they were a soap opera. Which, yeah. He had to give it to them.
> 
> Mitch had gotten up from his spot in the centre of the huddle and stalked towards Auston. Why was Auston getting into trouble so much these past few weeks?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. I am so tired. I am absolutely appalled at the number of evaluations I have each week.
> 
> There are triggers in this chapter, please read the endnotes. All the warnings will be down there. Please click out if you feel like if it gets too much for you at any point.
> 
> Have fun guys!

Megan Blaese was dead. Auston had taken care of her. A job well done. It was still January first, and it wasn’t that late. Only around eight thirty in the evening. He finished earlier than he expected, but he’d told Mitch that he would be busy with the guys for some “bonding” time. Why not call Mitch up and have some fun with him? There was still a primal thrum in his blood, adrenaline pumping and serotonin and dopamine crowding his brain. He could let out all this steam with Mitch and have a real celebration. It was New Year’s after all.

Auston had tried to keep all his clothes clean, like always, so he decided he didn’t need to go back to his apartment to get changed. He took out his phone and dialed Mitch, his most recent call. It went straight to voicemail.

What?

It was eight in the evening, what was Mitch doing? Maybe he lost his phone somewhere in the apartment and it ran out of battery. Auston would just go to his apartment instead. It wasn’t like Mitch minded too much when Auston showed up out of the blue.

When Auston arrived, he knocked once before trying to open the door. The knock was to alert Mitch that he was there, not for him to come open the door. That was always unlocked. But the door didn’t open. Mitch had locked it. That was unusual. Was Mitch actually not home? Maybe Mitch went to celebrate with his family. Mitch doesn’t see his family very often, he’s usually too busy. Especially now, when Auston had usurped all his time. It wasn’t like it was deliberate. Well, sometimes it was but no one really knew how much Auston needed Mitch. Mitch’s presence was constant and grounded Auston. It was like the Earth being tethered to the sun by its constant attraction. Or even the speed of light - never changing, never relative. Always definitive and true.

There was nothing in Toronto for Auston other than Mitch and hockey. Two things that intertwined interchangeably.

Fine then. If Mitch wasn’t available, then he’d have to go to the “mandatory bonding session” over at Willy’s. He might’ve been able to ditch it completely. But not anymore.

Willy might’ve been twenty-seven, but he still acted like a nineteen-year-old. So hard alcohol, beer pong, loads of stupidly loud music were all fair game at the Nylander residence. Auston didn’t usually mind, but he wasn’t sure how he was gonna feel about it after that adrenaline rush.

The drive to Willy’s was short and hazy. Auston didn’t focus too much on the roads, just going through the motion. When he arrived, he was surprised to find that there wasn’t any pounding music coming through the door of Willy’s condo. Just faint sounds of laughter and banter that was muffled by the door. He opened the door without notifying anyone of his entry and walked in to see a group of hockey players practically huddled in a tight circle. The TV was on, playing some random Netflix movie that Auston had never seen before. The only thing that had truly startled him was the sound of Mitch’s laughter.

“Matts!” Willy peeked his head out from the sofa as he checked to see who was at the door. “You’re late!”

Mitch whipped his head around, mid-laugh, and glared at Auston ferociously. Not that Auston was intimidated at all, Mitch was Mitch. Always too goofy and adorable to actually garner fear upon Auston.

It was going to be hard to get out of this one.

“Yeah,” he replied, “Sorry.”

Most of the guys who were more interested in his love life were staring at both Mitch and him. Some of them (Hyms and Brownie) were being discrete while others (Freddie, Naz, and JT) were outright watching them as if they were a soap opera. Which, yeah. He had to give it to them.

Mitch had gotten up from his spot in the centre of the huddle and stalked towards Auston. Why was Auston getting into trouble so much these past few weeks?

Mitch dragged Auston by the sleeve of his sweatshirt and pulled him towards the corridor leading to the bathroom, “Where were you? Shit, what’s that red stuff on your neck?” Shit. His neck. He never checked his neck.

“I went to volunteer last minute at the Sick Kids’ Hospital. I must’ve gotten nicked there,” Auston said, hoping to convince Mitch. “It’s New Years’ and I wanted to brighten up the kids’ days.”

“That’s a big cut, Aus. Are you sure you don’t wanna get that checked out?” Mitch frowned, more worried about Auston’s well-being at the moment.

“Yeah, I’m sure. It doesn’t even hurt.” Auston tried to move on from the topic quickly, hopefully, Mitch doesn’t become too engrossed with the logistics of the blood on his neck.

“Well, fine, if you want me to get on with it so badly, why’d you tell me that you were at Willy’s and Willy that you were gonna be with me?” Mitch confronted, a hint of annoyance in his tone.

“Did I say Willy? I meant to tell you I was going to Sick Kids’, I’m sorry Mitch,” Auston apologized and winced internally. He was truly sorry. But not for lying to Mitch about where he was going to be. It was necessary.

“And why’d you tell Willy you were going to be with me?” Mitch demanded. Auston really hoped none of the guys were eavesdropping.

He pulled Mitch a little bit closer and tried to lower his voice.

“Come on, Mitchy, did you really think I wanted to go to this dumbass thing? I had to come up with an excuse, babe,” Auston pleaded. “You don’t understand how bad it gets.”

“So you didn’t go to a club,” Mitch said, unimpressed, and looked away from Auston.

Auston could see the rest of the guys trying to get a closer look at them. Freddie, in particular, gave zero shits and stared Auston down with a chilly look. The disappointment was real.

“What? No! Why the fuck would I go to a club?” Auston exclaimed. He was utterly blown-away at Mitch’s thought process. “Mitchy, there’s no point of me going to a club. What would I do there? Get drunk? I could do that with you. Pick up? I already have a wonderful boyfriend, what do I need meaningly-less sex for?”

Auston clutched Mitch’s waist, manhandling him into a position where he could see Mitch’s face clearly. He pressed a kiss onto Mitch’s forehead. He could see Mitch was still slightly sceptical.

“When have I ever lied to you?” Auston asked as he stared into Mitch’s eyes, wholehearted.

“Do you want me to answer that?” Mitch retorted, a sharp and sarcastic smile edging onto his face.

“Fine. When have I ever lied to you since that first date?”

“I don’t know.” Mitch tried to hide his grin. “You could’ve been lying all along.”

“Mitchy,” Auston whined, resting his forehead on top of Mitch’s. “You know what I’m like.”

“Yeah,” Mitch sighed. “I do. I don’t know why I like-like you so much. Next time text me.”

Auston beamed at Mitch. “Well, I like-like you too. I promise I’ll make it up to you, baby.”

“You can start doing that now,” Mitch raised his voice, “by letting your friends tell me all of your embarrassing stories!”

Auston groaned.

The only response he got back was a smirk from Mitch, happy yelling from Willy and various guys, and a brief yet frightening smile from Freddie. It could’ve gone worse. He just hoped Mitch would buy the whole story, Sick Kids and getting nicked. He was glad he wasn’t going to be in Mitch’s bad books his time.

***

After watching that stupid movie, which was mostly overshadowed by the truly horrific stories everyone was determined to tell Mitch, Auston decided that he was going to crash Mitch’s apartment. Again. It was closer to Willy’s place than his was. By a minute. But still, quality time with Mitch was always something he tried to attain.

“Do you mind if I stay over at yours tonight?” Auston asked discreetly with a hand on the small of Mitch’s back. He leaned down over to Mitch’s ear, tightly packed beside him on the floor in front of the couch.

“Huh, yeah, of course,” Mitch turned and smiled. He looked a bit distraught as he was caught mid-story expressing his love for pineapple pizza to Brownie and Freddie. Brownie looked oddly invested while Freddie was amused but in a good way.

Auston gave a quick smile back and focused on Naz and Johnny. Naz was trying to rile John up about some trivial matter that they happened to disagree on while Gards looked on in distress. Another movie had started in the background already. No one was paying attention to it. Especially Willy who was bothering Zach about something irrelevant that was probably a little stupid while Zach was complaining about wanting to watch the movie.

“Mitchy, can we leave _now_?” Auston whispered. He was getting antsy.

“Sure, Matts,” Mitch chirped happily, apparently having convinced both Brownie and Freddie that pineapple on pizza was. in fact, not a travesty. Thank god for pineapple on pizza. If that hadn’t been invented, where would Auston be now?

Auston got up from his spot on the floor and walked quickly to the door. He waited for Mitch to catch up, already being entangled by the rest of the guys.

“Aw, you’re leaving so soon?” Willy shouted out, turning his attention away from Hymie for a moment.

“Yeah, Auston, you guys gonna do some celebrating alone?” Naz raised his eyebrows suggestively, earning a weird look from JT.

“Well,” Mitch laughed, “we’ll see about that.” That set off a round of “oh’s” and “you just got roasted” by a bunch of the younger guys, Willy included. Mitch only laughed louder and joined in on the teasing.

Auston, flustered, uttered, “I’m leaving.” Then he went out into the corridor and waited for Mitch. That joke wasn’t even good. Auston could’ve done better. No, he couldn’t. Everything Mitch did was better than Auston.

“Sorry,” Mitch smiled as he walked out of the condo, “It just slipped out.”

“Sure,” Auston huffed without any real indication of being hurt. “I just wanna get back to your place, without all these idiots.”

“Aw, Auston,” Mitch drawled, “but they’re your idiots.”

“Yeah,” Auston sighed, “I guess they are.”

 

They were able to make it back to Mitch’s place in one piece, Auston patiently waiting at the front of Mitch’s door as he arrived first.

“Auston,” Mitch started, setting his keys down on the kitchen counter and leaning against it.

“Yeah?” Auston looked up from his seat at the island.

“There’s a reason why I was kind of mad at you today,” Mitch said, looking away briefly. His face was marred by uncertainty and distress. Auston looked at Mitch, non-verbally urging him to go on. He didn’t want Mitch to feel this way.

“I’ve always been, I’unno, kind of self-conscious about myself,” Mitch uttered, fumbling at his hoodie. “There’s a reason I stopped hockey, you know.” Mitch looked up. “I stopped playing hockey when I was fifteen and in the GTHL. I was good, you know. I could’ve made the NHL.”

Mitch’s eyes were wide with feeling, swirling pools of sadness and darkness. Beautiful in an incomprehensible way, yet anguishing all the same.

Mitch hesitated, curling in on himself. Auston reached out and grabbed one of Mitch’s fidgeting hands, holding it gently and nodding.

“Well,” Mitch faltered, “you know I’m gay. I was already out to my family and friends at school, had been for a long time. And I had a boyfriend then when I was fifteen. It wasn’t anything serious, but he went to one of my games. I wasn’t out to my teammates yet. They found out about us somehow and were… less than pleased about it.” Mitch laughed humorlessly, self-deprecation clear on his face,

“Mitch,” Auston dragged, concern edging in his voice. “You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.” Not that Auston wouldn’t like to know.

“No, I’m fine. I have to do this,” Mitch said determinedly. He took a deep breath, grounding himself. “The guys found out, and this one fucking person I was close to screwed me over. He betrayed my trust, and I couldn’t play on anymore.” Mitch’s face looked bitter and angry, a combination that Auston thought never would’ve been possible for Mitch. Bright, happy, sunshine Mitch looking like he could give murderer Auston a run for his money.

“What do you mean he screwed you over?” Auston demanded, fearing the answer.

Mitch snapped.

“He fucking made me suck his dick! It was disgusting!” Mitch let out. “I couldn’t live on playing hockey like that, with _them_. I just couldn’t, Matty.”

They were dead already.

“Who the fuck were they?” Auston demanded menacingly.

“I don’t care about them anymore, Aus, it’s fine,” Mitch said.

“Tell me who they were! I swear to god, I will fucking hurt them,” Auston swore, a hurricane ready to be unleashed.

“Auston! Don’t do anything stupid!” Mitch exclaimed, hand gripping Auston’s tighter.

“Tell me his name Mitch,” Auston said with force, voice scarily calm.

“It was this guy named Charles Alford, okay? I bet he’s not even doing that well. So don’t do anything.”

“I won’t,” Auston replied, still seething.

“Auston,” Mitch said, tilting Auston’s head towards him. “I understand how fucked up it is, but you can’t fuck up your career over this okay? It’s over and done with.” Auston’s heart trembled. He was trying to not totally break out into hysterics.

“Yeah. I know. I just, you mean a lot to me, baby.”

Mitch grinned, slinking towards Auston like a cat and pressing a cheeky kiss to Auston’s neck. “That’s all that matters, then, Matty.”

***

“I hate this,” Mitch said as soon as he stepped out of Patty’s car.

“Me too, don’t worry,” Patty snarked back without any heat. They were both staring at the horrific scene in front of them.

Mitch gets one day off and the city of Toronto decides to fuck him over. Another gruesome murder, another day. Why did Mitch ever decide being a detective was going to be good for him? Just the stress alone was making him, well, stressed. But that was fine, he got through school and training just fine. He’d be okay.

Patty and Mitch were called to a crime scene as soon as they stepped foot into the department, getting a call from Staff Inspector Dubas. It had been quite intimidating for Mitch to say the least. There had been another murder in the downtown area at a park just outside of the entertainment district. It seemed like it was the Angel of Death who had struck again.

The body of Megan Blaese was sitting on a bench, perfectly staged. She was wearing a skin-tight white blouse with a black pencil skirt to match. Her head was tilted back on to the back of the bench, her throat having been sliced straight through the cartilage to the spine. There was nothing to support her disfigured head. Her eyes had been gouged out; deep, scarlet, pits of disconnected veins and exposed tissue. Her eyeballs were currently sitting in her hands, one in each, with a perfect “X” carved into both. A deep cut ran through the edges of her mouth, cutting through her cheeks and creating a permanent frown. The opposite of a Glasgow smile.

Dried blood seeped out of every wound, some frozen on to her skin due to the Canadian weather. Many white feathers were matted with blood like a halo around the crown of her head, pretty blonde ringlets caked with the offending substance. Her white shirt was stained with blood from both her mouth and throat, almost covering up the heart that was carved into the right side of her chest. A knife, presumably used for these lacerations, was found sitting next to her body. It was still covered in blood.

Blaese’s body contradicted the atmosphere of the entire park; a water fountain with little dog statues all over it could be seen directly in front of it. The streets and grass were all covered in snow, creating a perfect postcard winter scene. Then, there was the blood that had leaked onto the ground and was frozen into the ground. It reminded Mitch of a river of blood.

“I bet you it’s the same person as the Curran murder,” Mitch spoke to Patty. He wanted to poke the body with a stick.

“The MO’s practically the same,” Patty remarked.

“One less problem to worry about, I guess,” Mitch said wryly.

“What do you mean?”

“That’s Megan Blaese! The person who kept going on Tattle Crime!”

“How would you know that, Mitchy?”

“Patty, I know you’re not that old to not know what Google is,” Mitch chirped.

“Respect your elders, Mitch,” Patty murmured. “Don’t make me bring out Marty for disciplinary reasons”

Mitch shuddered. “You’d only do that in desperate situations.”

Patty raised an eyebrow. “Just try me, Mitchy. We’ll see who bends first.”

Mitch pouted and pulled his winter coat tighter against his body. His legs were feeling cold. He was only wearing some slacks against the freezing January winds.

“Let’s just go back to places with heating,” Mitch hummed.

“Whatever you say, Canadian boy,” Patty smirked as newscast crews began to babble and gather in the background, destroying the careful peace that had settled in the fragile atmosphere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:
> 
> Megan Blaese's dead body is found, and there is a description of her mutilated body. I don't think the description is too graphic, it's like the other chapters. Mitch tells Auston about his experience with Charles and why he stopped playing hockey. There's one sentence about his actual rape, but Mitch isn't too affected by saying it. 
> 
> Please tell me if I missed anything or if these warnings aren't sufficient enough.
> 
> I can't wait until I can actually have a day of rest. 
> 
> Thanks for reading guys!


	11. run, go ahead, have fun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What the fuck? He kind of seems like an asshole.”
> 
> “He’s not. At least, not that much. He makes me happy,” Mitch grinned. Marty settled a bit.
> 
> “No, but for real, does that mean you got me an autograph?”
> 
> “No, Marty. It does not. You can get your own autograph.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's game was shit y'all. I had to write and feel better. Scew my chem quiz tomorrow, watching that game while studying did not help my emotions. 
> 
> This chapter has triggers. They'll be listed in the endnotes, like always. PLEASE take a look at them if you feel like it might pertain to you, I don't want to spoil anything by llisting triggers in the beginning. PLEASE click out if you ever feel like this fic might be too much.
> 
> Have fun, people :)

 

“This is her, huh?” Mitch asked, perched on a stool in Mo and Kappy’s lab. Blaese’s body was laid out on the morgue table, body thawed out and leaking a bit. Patty was standing next to Mo and Kappy, who were both examining the body. Wednesdays were so stupid. New Year’s was only two days ago, and already there was another murder.

 

“Pretty much,” Mo replied, “we know that this is Megan Blaese for sure. There haven’t been any articles either, which I’m sure you know already. Fits the Angel of Death MO, death due to strangulation. Cerebral hypoxia and post-mortem wounds. You’ve got that classic heart on the right side of Blaese’s chest and also the halo. It’s just a bunch of fake white feathers that were basically dropped into her blood-soaked hair. Throat was cleanly sliced through cartilage, quite a lot of force. That frown through her lips was pretty jagged. The first time the killer was this bold with the lacerations, I suppose.”

 

“That’s a lot of information,” Patty blew out, leaning against a counter.  

 

“Well, there’s more,” Kappy droned unhappily. 

 

“The eyes were also gouged out post-mortem,” Mo continued, ignoring the interruptions. “I don’t know the significance of that, but the cuts were made after they were gouged out. The knife found was the weapon used to create all wounds. Time of death was probably around seven to eight pm on New Year’s. Very recent.”

 

The time of death was around seven to eight on New Year’s… That was familiar to Mitch. Why was it familiar to Mitch? That’s right, Auston had been at Sick Kids during then, lying to both Willy and Mitch. 

 

“Please tell me there’s DNA evidence that could point us to any suspects,” Mitch moaned.

 

“Sorry, Mitchy,” Mo apologized with a grimace. 

 

“Do you guys have some leads?” Kappy asked.

 

“None at all,” Patty laughed sardonically, “no witnesses here either. But to be fair, it was New Year’s.”

 

“Does no one ever go out on New Year’s anymore?” Mitch asked, partially enraged. 

 

“I guess not,” Kappy shrugged, looking over at Mitch. 

 

“Okay, well, let’s think,” Patty started. “We know that Megan Blaese was killed. She was the one who wrote that nasty article, right?”

 

“Yeah, so did the killer actually mean to kill her specifically? I mean, it had to be right? Why else was her throat cut and eyes gouged out?” Mitch responded.

 

“What do you mean?” Mo asked, intrigued. 

 

“Don’t you see it? He’s trying to show how she shouldn’t talk or see anymore. He was trying to shut her up, cutting her throat and her lips show that. He doesn’t want her to keep writing those stupid articles,” Mitch reasoned. The message was crystal clear to him. 

 

“Huh,” Patty said. “I never thought of it like that.”

 

“Does that mean the killer’s, like, kind of into Mitch?” Kappy asked. The room went quiet as everyone stared at him in shock.

 

“Why would you ever say that, Kappy! That’s not a cool joke!” Mitch exclaimed while Mo made a noise of unease and disapproval. Patty stared on in tired disbelief.

 

“No, just, listen,” Kappy explained frantically, trying to make his case. “I’m not trying to be mean, but Megan Blaese specifically targeted you, right Mitchy?” Mitch nodded. “Then why else would he shut her up? So she wouldn’t talk about him? She was never writing about his murders, she was just using him to fuck you over! And remember how that heart had been carved into both bodies in the exact style and place? That’s some weird shit, Mitch. Have you thought about that before?”

 

In fact, Mitch had thought about it before. He had thought the heart was meant for him, just like this murder was meant for him. But he didn’t think it was supposed to be intimidating. It wasn’t meant to threaten him, more so to fight  _ for _ him. That scared him a bit. But he couldn’t deny that he didn’t feel a tiny bit of complacency. Mitch was so fucked up.

 

“Fucking Christ, Kappy,” Patty sighed. But he didn’t disagree or argue with him. Kappy shrugged, knowing he was at least partially right.

 

“It’s okay,” Mitch shuddered, “I don’t think he was actually targeting me. It’s too big a probability.”

 

“I don’t know Mitchy, just don’t completely rule it out, okay?” Mo said, worry evident on his face. He looked at Patty, who nodded in response. Patty would try to protect Mitch no matter what was going to happen. 

 

For some reason, Mitch could not stop thinking about Auston Matthews. This murder happened and Mitch couldn’t stop seeing Auston in every piece of evidence. He knew it wasn’t plausible for Auston to be the Angel of Death. He was a fucking professional hockey player. There was no chance at all. A probability of zero. But in every stroke of the killer’s knife, every cut and every bruise reminded him more and more of Auston. There was that raw, uncontrolled anger and power in each strike. An irreplaceable sense of confidence was always present in both murders, reminiscent of Auston himself. Auston commanded every room he entered, and these murders were the same. They were big and prominent, just like Auston was. 

 

Both murders targeted journalists; that could be a trend. Yet Mitch didn’t feel like all the future murders - if there was going to be any - would all be journalists. But, really, what was the motive behind killing Orson Curran? He didn’t hurt anyone specifically, maybe except for the sports teams he had been reporting on. And Megan Blaese. She didn’t really commit any crimes. So why did the Angel kill her? Because she was talking shit about Mitch? So why would a person that was close to him have the motive to kill Curran? He didn’t know him at all. 

 

Mitch huffed out loud, drawing all three pairs of eyes to him. 

 

“You know what,” Mitch started. “I feel like we should go interview the Toronto FC guys.”

 

“Why?” Kappy asked while taking notes, not looking up from his paper. 

 

“‘Cause Curran was writing articles on them first, right? Maybe they could tell us something about him,” Mitch reasoned and glanced at Patty.

 

“That’s not a bad idea,” Patty said. 

 

“Well, there you go,” Mo said. He waved a hand at them. “You can go now, then.”

 

“How rude,” Mitch pouted and stalked out of the laboratory. Patty followed behind him with a quick wave to both Kappy and Mo. 

 

“I can’t believe we never thought of this,” Mitch said. 

 

“Yeah,” Patty sighed. “I just want this to be over.”

 

Mitch snorted sarcastically. “You wish, Patty.” He sobered up a bit. “No, but for real, why? Are Christina and the kids getting kind of fed up with the hours you’re working? Because, honestly, I really wouldn’t mind if you didn’t work overtime. I can handle it. I mean, you have a family and that’s way more important than this.”

 

“Mitchy,” Patty smiled wryly, “you’re my family too. I have to make sure you don’t work yourself to death, either.”

 

“But I’m not!” Mitch retorted. “I’m just saying, I can do some of your stuff so you could go home earlier. And plus, I’m not working myself to death. I have Aus, now.”

 

“So you’ll even do my paperwork?” Patty smiled.

 

Mitch made a face, “I’ll have to get back to you on that.” 

 

Patty laughed and sat down loudly as they reached their adjacent desks. 

 

“Should we get started on contacting some of the guys from Toronto FC?” Mitch asked, opening his laptop up. 

 

“Yeah, we should,” Patty said. 

 

“Do that later,” a voice said in front of both of them.

 

“Shoo, Marty,” Mitch replied, putting all of his attention on his laptop. Patty laughed and shrugged at Marty. 

 

“Marns, you should take a break,” Marty drawled, taking a sip of the coffee in his hand.

 

“I just started!” Mitch exclaimed, shooting a look of disapproval at Marty.

 

“So? I’m on my break, so you should take yours to entertain me.”

 

“Patty,” Mitch opened his mouth in disbelief, “can you believe this guy?”

 

“Just talk to him, Mitch,” Patty snorted and decided to tune out of the conversation. 

 

Mitch leaned back and glared at Marty, “what’s up then? You’re still at work, you know.”

 

“Nothing’s up! I’m just on my  _ break _ , as I’ve stated before. I have no other friends except for you, Mitchy. That’s why I’m here,” Marty replied humorously. 

 

“Well, I have a boyfriend.” 

 

“Ha, ha. Funny, Mitchy. But honestly, I’ve been curious about that. How’s it going with Matthews?”

 

“He lied to me again,” Mitch sighed. “He went to visit Sick Kids but told him he was hanging out with the guys. And then he told  _ Willy _ that he was with me at the same time. So. But it’s not too big of a deal.”

 

“He lied to you and Willy? As in William fucking Nylander?” Marty was shook. 

 

“Yeah, he called me because he wanted to find out where Auston was. And that’s how I knew Auston wasn’t with them,” Mitch shrugged. 

 

“What the fuck? He kind of seems like an asshole.”

 

“He’s not. At least, not  _ that _ much. He makes me happy,” Mitch grinned. Marty settled a bit.

 

“No, but for real, does that mean you got me an autograph?”

 

“No, Marty. It does not. You can get your own autograph.”

 

“Does that mean you’ll introduce us?” Marty had a hopeful look on his face. 

 

“Sure Marty,” Mitch smirked. “If you’re good.”

 

***

 

Auston knows, he was going to get caught. But who cares? Mitch would probably cover for him. Their relationship was at that stage, at least for Mitch. 

 

Charles Alford was a dick. He looked like one too. He had a sleazy-looking face with a sneer constantly upon it. His hair looked like it hadn’t been washed in days, black curls greasy and matted to his scalp. He was at least 5’10”, but even then he was a good four inches shorter than Auston. His physique couldn’t be compared to Auston’s at all. Where Auston was all taut bulging muscle, Charles only had flabby skin that might’ve been muscle once. Auston could only imagine what he looked like ten years ago. Charles Alford had put every part of his life into hockey, into making the NHL. But overall, his goal was to make the NHL just for the sheer salary most of the guys earned. In the end, his career went nowhere. He had no love for the game. It was obvious to everyone and cost him the sport. No longer was he the popular jock who had a future in front of him, he was now known as a lowly part-time cashier who still lived with his parents. 

 

Of course, Charles already had a pretty tough life since he fucked up Mitch’s life. But Auston wasn’t done with him yet. He took the drugged man, dragged him to the Linseed Factory twenty minutes away, and tied him to a chair. Productive work within an hour. 

 

It was a perfect Friday night, Auston finally getting a chance t put an end to Mitch’s terrible past. 

 

Auston backhanded Charles with a gloved hand, the hard wack ringing out in the deserted concrete room. He had let Charles sleep it off for a while. He wanted him to be able to feel physical pain. 

 

“Wake the fuck up,” Auston sneered loudly, fully knowing Charles must’ve been shaken by the brunt of the hit.

 

Charles groaned a bit, eyes hazy and swimming. He couldn’t focus on anything.

 

“Wha,” Charles mumbled, his mind was still a bit out of it. Auston pulled Charles’ head up by his hair, Charles let out a mild groan in the process. 

 

“Are you Auston Matthews?” Charles slurred, eyes trying to focus on the person in front of him. 

 

“Shut the fuck up,” Auston said in a cool tone. “Do you know why you’re here?”

 

Charles shook his head slowly, mouth drolling open. He wasn’t sober enough to understand the implications of the situation. 

 

“You’re going to fucking die, Charles,” Auston laughed dispassionately. Charles’ eyes widened a bit as he was able to process some of that information. 

 

“Huh?” he garbled, waking up a little bit more. 

 

“You hurt Mitch Marner,” Auston stated. “That means you’re gonna be hurt too.” Auston dropped his head with a firm push, Charles’ body moving backwards with its force. 

 

“Mitch Marner? The fag?” Charles spat out even in his dissociative state. “I have to give it to him; he acted all fucking brave in the locker room yet he knew how to suck a cock like a good little slut. That was a long time ago, though. Why the fuck are you on about him?”

 

Auston clenched his fists and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He was going to get to the good part soon. He couldn’t let Charles’ stupid fucking mouth rile him up too early. 

 

“You fucked up his whole career,” Auston started, “and what do you have to show for it? Nothing. You’re way fucked up than he is and you stole his life away. Yet, he’s still more successful than you. That’s fucked, huh?” Auston’s tone was taunting, trying to cut into Charles mentally before he did any physical work.

 

“Shut the fuck up! Mitch Marner didn’t deserve to play hockey! That good for nothing brat of a faggot only fucking showed off. If he couldn’t have handled that than he never could’ve made it into the NHL!”

 

Auston turned to a wall, taking another deep breath. He tried to calm himself. Charles Alford was really going to get it. 

 

“You should’ve shut up when you had the chance,” Auston spat out, grabbing a brand new kitchen knife from the bag he brought along. He stalked towards Charles, intent clear within his eyes. 

 

Charles saw the knife in Auston’s hand and tried to thrash around. “Is that a fucking knife? Are you crazy? You’re Auston fucking Matthews! You can’t do this!”

 

Auston smiled malevolently, a red glint in his eyes, “I can and I will. Remember, you brought this on yourself. Think of Mitch when you die. Think of his blue eyes and how you’re the one who stared them down as you fucked his pretty mouth. Mitch Marner killed you, I’m just the one doing his dirty work.” 

 

Charles tried to move further away, scooting the chair back as the fear mounted in his eyes. Auston’s heart beat faster, pulse racing in anticipation. And bam. He struck Charles’ heart in a fatal blow, letting out a scream of rage as he did so. Blood sprayed everywhere, the warm viscous liquid coating Auston’s face in scarlet drops. He could feel it running down his knife and gloves before finally making it onto the ratty grey hoodie Charles was wearing, winter coat thrown off to the side. Fear had been embedded into Charles’ eyes, slowly becoming glassy as his breathing stilled. Finally. Charles Alford was dead. 

 

Auston laughed once. Then he laughed again, the sound harsh and scrapping. Fuck Charles Alford. No one got to mess with Mitch and get away with it alive. Especially if they happened to fucking rape him. 

 

_ Bye Charles _ , Auston thought.  _ See you in fucking hell _ .

 

***

 

Mitch was going to go on strike. No, he wasn’t. He was too important to the city of Toronto. Plus, he loved his job too much. But this was the fourth Saturday in a row where he’d been woken up by Patty due to some stupid work thing. These past few days had been hell already, his mind stuck in a loop of thinking about Megan Blaese and Auston. It was just his luck that another case was going to be added to that tedious cycle. 

 

“Do you think they’ll pay us more for this?” Mitch asked jokingly, staring out the window at the passing scenery. It was always a bit jammed on the Gardiner Express, no matter the direction they were going in or the time of day. 

 

Patty snorted, “I mean, do you even really care?”

 

“Nope,” Mitch popped. “It’d be kinda nice though. Like, telling us we did a good job, you know.”

 

“Well, I’m telling you now, Mitch, you’re doing a  _ great _ job. And I’m not being sarcastic,” Patty said softly.

“Thanks, Patty,” Mitch smiled, one of the rare smiles that was smaller but exuded warmth just as much, if not more, as his wide grins.

 

“Don’t mention it, Mitchy,” Patty said. “Just get ready to deal with some awful shit.” 

 

Mitch bit his lip, worrying at it in distress. They were coming up to an abandoned factory that was already closed off by yellow police tape. The cloudy winter day did nothing to help lighten the atmosphere around the building. There felt like there was a weight in Mitch’s stomach already, his intuition telling him that  _ this _ was what everything had been leading up to. 

 

Patty parked in the deserted parking lot, leading Mitch to some of the officers in front of the building. They directed the two to a room in the back of the building, hidden behind decrepit walls and crumbling ceilings. 

 

The concrete nature of the entire place felt like a prison to Mitch, trapping him an inescapable contraption that was slowly sucking all the comfort from within his body. He could only feel dread and worry now. 

 

He entered the room, trailing behind Patty. His heart stopped.

 

Auston fucking Matthews. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:
> 
> Megan Blaese's dead body is explained in detail, with descriptions of mild gore and such. Auston drugs Charles Alford beforehand, with mentions of the effects of those drugs throughout that scene. Charles is the boy who sexually assaulted Mitch when he was younger, there are mentions of this event throughout the scene as well. Charles uses f*g once and f*gg*t another time. Auston kills Charles Alford, described with minor detail. Minor descriptions of violence as well. Please comment/tell me if there are other trigger warnings, if these aren't sufficient enough, or if there are any grammar mistakes!
> 
> I'm going to sleep now and reflect on my terrible life decisions. Probably including the not studying enough part.
> 
> Things are heating up and it's FINALLY the part where I wanted it to go :)
> 
> Thanks for reading again, guys! Hope you enjoyed!


	12. you knew the game and played it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t know what you’re on about, Mitchy,” Auston replied with an edge in his voice. 
> 
> “Don’t make me say it or you’ll be really fucked,” Mitch scoffed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back. I think there are a few more chapters to go and this thing will be finished! I still don't know how to end it lmao. School is still kicking my ass, what else is new. 
> 
> Trigger warnings! There are trigger warnings in this chapter. Please read them if you feel that they are necessary, they'll be in the endnotes as always. 
> 
> Alright. Praying for a leafs win (maybe a mitch goal, hmm) tomorrow.
> 
> Have fun, guys!

Mitch huffed. Another crime scene, another brutally horrific epiphany, another day he was dreading to go through. Auston had to be the one who perpetrated the fucking crime. He was missing again yesterday night, texting Willy and Mitch both the same thing to ensure his corroboration. Auston had made some bullshit excuse about hanging out with his sister’s close friend that just so happened to be in Toronto. Willy had texted him about it, even offering Mitch a place to hang out. Mitch thanked him and brought Kappy along. It was great. So while Mitch was laughing along to Willy’s ridiculous stories and Kappy’s blunt retorts, Auston was out killing Charles Alford. 

 

Charles fucking Alford. Mitch would never forget would he looked like, no matter how the years had aged him for the worst. He knew Charles hadn’t made it big, hadn’t been in the NHL drafts. It was obvious he was jack shit. And Mitch had been over it. He didn’t  _ care _ as much anymore. He was only slightly angry now. But now that Auston had gone out and physically  _ murdered _ the guy and dug up old memories, there was this sense of satisfaction where that spiky rage used to be. It was unnerving, to say the least. He had no sympathy for Charles. He was  _ happy _ . The only thing he was dissatisfied about was the fact that he wasn’t the one who had done it. Which, he really shouldn’t have been thinking about, being a member of the police task force. 

 

But at least it seemed like Auston had killed Charles in a merciless manner. There were no signs of a struggle or even the telltale bruising along a victim’s throat that was attributed to strangling. Auston had moved away from the more painless side of murdering a human being to something akin to slaughtering. Everything about his crime screamed organized bloodshed. Auston made it seem like Charles was below him, a dirty pig resting on pillars of self-interest and cowardice. Auston was the king and Alford was the peasant.  

 

From a superficial view of the scene, there was a deep stab wound right into Charles’ heart, perhaps executed several times. The front of his tatty sweatshirt was matted with dried blood, including the right side of his chest. That probably meant there was going to be a carved heart on the surface of Charles’ skin underneath the hoodie. Charles’ dick, which hadn’t changed much from the last time Mitch saw it, was stuffed into his own mouth. Blood from the severed end had dripped onto Charles’ pants. The image sickened Mitch down to his stomach, even after all the practice he’d had with other crime scenes. Charles had been found lying slack in a foldable metal chair. Zip-ties laid upon the ground, once confining him to his death. Auston had kept his aesthetic — crude angel wings drawn in blood with a shaky finesse. It made the crime scene look rawer, a cruel juxtaposition laid out on the dirty concrete. It was a simple yet defining set up. Mitch understood every word Auston was trying to convey. Mitch hated and loved him for it all the same.

 

Auston wanted to show Charles was nothing more than a nuisance, not even close to being the same species as Mitch. He wasn’t allowed to be living in the same world as Mitch. Auston didn’t need to do much to relay his passion and  _ love _ . That had always been present in the carved hearts, etched with patience. The force of his blows showed how much he really cared, how much Mitch had influenced his actions. He did this for Mitch. Not himself. 

 

Mitch couldn’t think anymore. Not after this haunting display of disconcerting  _ affection _ . How was Mitch going to get out of this one? Was he supposed to tell everyone and turn Auston in? Then where would he be? He was a cop. He was supposed to follow the law, finding the killer was his  _ job _ . But could he really risk it all just for Auston Matthews, the golden boy of Toronto that just so happened to have a dark side?

 

“Mitch,” Patty called out. 

 

“Yeah,” Mitch whipped around, startled out of his thoughts. He felt like he’d been caught. 

 

“A group of kids found the body,” Patty grimaced, moving to stand next to Mitch.

 

Mitch hissed in a breath, “that’s so bad. Oh lord, how are they doing?”

 

“One of them think it’s kind of cool, but the girls are pretty traumatised,” Patty frowned. 

 

“Why were they even here in the first place?” Mitch pondered.

 

“It’s an abandoned factory. They’re teenagers. I thought you’d understand why,” Patty said.

 

“Yeah, you’re right, I do. I just can’t really think right now. I mean, another Angel of Death murder? It’s been, like, two days since the last one. What’s with the screwed up timeline?”

 

“I know Mitchy,” Patty sighed. “We’ll get through it like we always do. I have faith. Come on, we can go back when we finish talking to the kids.”

 

Mitch made a noise, half agreement and half distraught.

 

Patty led Mitch by the elbow, steering him to an ambulance where three teenagers were hanging out with blankets on their backs. Two girls and a boy. 

 

“Hey guys,” Mitch greeted quietly. “How’re you all doing?” Mitch grimaced inwardly. That was a stupid question to ask, they just saw a dead body. How else would they feel?

 

“Not too well,” the shorter girl murmured, looking down at the grey pavement. She swung her legs back and forth, kicking them in an effort to keep her mind off of the gruesome scene she had just witnessed.

 

“Yeah,” the boy sighed while the other girl didn’t say a word. 

 

“Don’t worry, we just have some quick questions for you before you guys can go home,” Mitch smiled weakly. Hopefully, he seemed friendly. 

 

“Okay,” the taller girl responded timidly and risked a glance in Mitch and Patty’s direction. She twirled a strand of her long caramel hair with fidgety hands.

 

“I’m Detective Mitch Marner, and this is Inspector Patrick Marleau. What are all your names?” Mitch asked in a gentle tone. 

 

“I’m Chris,” the boy piped up. “This is Sadia.” He gestured to the shorter girl that had her hair up in a long ponytail. “And that’s Irene.” The girl with the caramel hair waved weakly.

 

“And, uh, how old are you guys?” Mitch said.

 

“We’re fifteen. Except for Sadia. She’s sixteen, her birthday was a few days ago,” Irene answered, leaning her weight on Sadia.

 

“If you don’t mind me asking, why were all of you here this early in the morning? And at an abandoned factory, as well?” Patty stepped in the conversation, keeping his tone light.

 

Sadia blushed while Chris snorted, “they wanted some photos for Instagram and thought that this stupid abandoned factory would be a good place to take them. So they dragged me along to be their photographer.”

 

“Oh,” Mitch said, mildly surprised, “I see.” He and Patty shared a look. No one wanted to ask the hard questions to these kids. Only fifteen-year-olds. 

 

“Wait,” Chris started, “are you the Mitch Marner that’s been following the Angel of Death?”

 

“I am,” Mitch said with a wry smile.

 

“Does that mean this is an Angel of Death investigation?” Chris asked. Mitch’s eyes widened.

 

“That’s classified information,” Patty piped up before allowing Mitch to spread any news around. Chris nudged the girls and smiled warily.

 

“I told you,” Chris said smugly. His smile slid off within seconds and he sobered up. He sighed quickly. “I know you guys probably want statements from us. We didn’t really see anything. I walked into the room, smelt something, saw blood and ran out.”

 

“Yeah,” Sadia agreed, “he saw most of it. I just saw a vague shape of a man in a chair. Obviously, his corpse. But Chris didn’t let us in because of what he’d seen. So then we called the police.”

 

“Are you going to tell our parents?” Irene asked hopefully, innocent eyes widening. 

 

“Uh,” Mitch said and looked to Patty for assistance. He was a sucker for kids. 

 

“Sorry, kids, but this is some pretty major stuff. Your local police officers will give your parents a call, you’ll have to go down to the nearest police station for a bit. And then you’ll get to go home,” Patty said with a sympathetic grimace. 

 

Chris sighed and stood up. “This is what I get for agreeing to go out with you guys. This one time!” he muttered as he trampled away from the ambulance and towards the police officers that initially found them.

 

The two girls smiled apologetically. 

 

“Sorry for the inconvenience,” Sadia said with a quick duck of her head while Irene waved slightly, both of them following Chris.

 

Mitch sighed tiredly. 

 

“Kids are so crazy now,” Mitch remarked. Patty snorted and pushed Mitch with his shoulder.

 

“You’re a kid, Mitchy,” he responded. 

 

“I’m really not,” Mitch deadpanned.

 

“Keep telling yourself that, Marns.”

 

***

 

“Wow. This sucks,” Kappy looked on at the body. He had a hand held up at his chin, stroking his truly terrible facial hair.

 

“Can you shave please?” Mitch chirped, half-serious. That thing almost came close to how bad his beard would look. 

 

“No!” Kappy said, affronted. “Willy said it looked good.”

 

“Willy doesn’t know you. He lied,” Mitch shot back, crossing his arms. 

 

Kappy huffed and turned back to his blood samples. 

 

“Well, do you want to know the toxicology results or not?” 

 

“Okay boys, let’s get back to work here,” Patty smirked, amused. 

 

“Mo, tell them what happened. I don’t want to see Mitchy’s face,” Kappy turned and stuck his chin out. Mitch stuck his own tongue out in return. 

 

“Don’t be like that Kas,” Mo said. “You’re better at that than I am.”

 

Kasperi humphed. 

 

“Aw, Kappy! You know I love you, even if you still have that truly fugly beard,” Mitch exclaimed and ran over to Kappy, engulfing him in a huge hug. He was trying not to discuss Auston Matthews as the fucking Angel of Death. Now it just sounded more stupid. It was so ironic calling  _ Auston Matthews _ the Angel of Death. 

 

“Fine,” Kappy said, trying to shake Mitch off. “There was a significant amount of ketamine found in his bloodstream. Not enough to kill, but enough to warrant disassociation. It had also been administered through injection, the injection site is on the back of his left arm. Lots of bruising, suggesting the killer had trouble with it. He might’ve been new to this.”

 

Mitch sobered up. “Time and cause of death?”

 

“Last night,” Mo spoke. “Cause of death is actually the stab wound to the heart. The victim likely would’ve been able to feel a significant level of pain even with the ketamine that had been injected. The killer wanted the victim to feel it. It’s different than the past ways he killed his victims. It’s the first time he  _ wanted _ the person to be in pain.”

 

“Yeah. The vic is Charles Alford, by the way. ID says so,” Kappy added.

 

Patty stopped in his tracks and whipped around to look at Mitch who had his head down. 

 

“Charles Alford? As in  _ that _ Charles Alford?” Patty demanded. 

 

“Yeah,” Mitch sighed defeatedly, putting a hand to his face.

 

“Why didn’t you stay anything?” Patty asked in bewilderment.

 

“It’s not a big deal,” Mitch replied quietly, shrinking a bit into Kappy, whose lap he had sneaked into during their brief argument. Kappy looked at him, surprised, and wrapped his arms tighter around Mitch. Mitch snuggled back, glad for the support. 

 

“What’s happening?” Kappy asked, confused. Mo stared on in vexation.

 

Patty nodded towards Mitch, quietly signalling that this was the time to tell them everything if Mitch wanted to. He wasn’t going to be the one that told everyone Mitch’s secret. 

 

“Did I ever tell you guys why I quit hockey?”

 

“No,” Mo answered quietly. Kappy rubbed a reassuring hand down Mitch’s arm.

 

“Well,” Mitch continued, “it’s ‘cause this guy made me suck his dick. For being a fag.”

 

Kappy stiffened while Mo gulped in a breath of air. 

 

“Fucking shit,” Kappy said, clutching at Mitch a little bit tighter.

 

“Mitch,” Mo started and faltered.

 

“I’m fine,” Mitch said and shot a dirty look at Patty. Patty only raised his eyebrows.

 

“That is so fucked,” Kappy uttered. “I’m actually kind of happy he’s dead.”

 

“Kappy! You can’t say that!” Mitch scoffed, smacking at him. 

 

“Well, I just did. How could anyone do that? It’s just horrible,” Kappy exclaimed.

 

Mitch turned and looked at Mo expectantly like he was going to prove Kappy wrong. 

 

“Mitch, as I much as I hate to say this, but I kind of agree with Kappy. Anyone who hurt you is just... a terrible being,” Mo replied calmly, an edge of worry in his eyes. 

 

“It’s not a big deal,” Mitch sighed. “I’m already over it. Why else am in law enforcement?”

 

Mo and Kappy still seemed unsure. 

 

“Just ask Patty!” Mitch added. “Patty, tell them.”

 

“I can’t account for your own well-being, Mitchy,” Patty frowned. 

 

Mitch huffed. “Well, I’m fine. Let’s just throw some ideas around about this stupid murder. I don’t want to think about him.”

 

Mitch stepped off of Kappy’s lap, going to sit at one of the stools again. Kappy glared at Mitch, not wanting to let go of Mitch yet. 

 

“There’s only one explanation for this,” Kappy said, face softening. 

 

“What?” Mo asked. 

 

“The killer actually really likes Mitch,” he sighed. Mitch stiffened. 

 

“Well, it seems a little bit more likely now,” Patty said, cautiously gauging Mitch’s reaction.

 

“Yeah, he was probably trying to avenge Mitch. Not that I blame him, but it’s still illegal,” Kappy replied. 

 

“This is so bad,” Mitch groaned, putting his face in his hands. It was Auston. He wanted to say it. It was on the tip of his tongue, weighing his whole conscience down. Three words and they’d know. And Auston would be convicted. But there was no significant evidence that pointed it towards him. They’d find some though. Auston couldn’t be that meticulous, especially since he had no alibis for at least two of the murders. Shit. Could Mitch really out Auston like that? But it was  _ illegal _ . He couldn’t just  _ kill _ people. That wasn’t right. 

 

“Mitchy?” Patty asked.

 

“What,” Mitch replied, having zoned out for a few minutes.

 

“I said, is there anyone you told recently about Alford?” Patty asked. Okay. Mitch could do this. He just had to say Auston Matthews.

 

“Except for Mo and Kappy just then, no one,” Mitch replied with a straight face. Shit. Okay. That didn’t go as planned. 

 

“Hm,” Patty hummed.

 

“You haven’t been getting any weird stalker letters, have you?” Kappy questioned, genuinely worried. 

 

“ _ No _ ,” Mitch denied. “I barely get mail anymore.” 

 

“We should tell Dubas,” Mo grimaced. Mitch groaned. 

 

“We should,” Patty agreed with a slow nod and a contemplative look. 

 

“This is going overboard,” Mitch pouted. 

 

“It’s really not,” Kappy added, face still fuming. 

 

“Is he gonna pull me from the cases?” Mitch asked.

 

Patty frowned, “let’s hope not.”

 

If he did get pulled, at least then he wouldn’t have to think about giving Auston up. 

 

***

 

Auston pulled open the door to Mitch’s condo with ease. He was prepared for the worst. They had decided on dinner tonight since Auston had a game tomorrow and then another in Detroit in a few days. They wouldn’t be able to see each other in five or six days during then. 

 

“Mitch?” Auston called out, pushing the door shut with a soft thud.  

 

“Come sit,” Mitch’s voice echoed from the kitchen. To his surprise, he saw Mitch sitting at his tiny dining table in comfy sweats. Mitch never used the dining table, only the kitchen island. 

 

“What’s this?” Auston questioned, pulling out a chair and plopping down. 

 

“I don’t know,” Mitch said, picking at his nails before fixing Auston with a harsh glare. “Why don’t you tell me a bit about what happened with Charles Alford?”

 

“Charles Alford? The guy who fucking did horrible shit to you? Did he do something again? Do I need to go beat him up?”

 

Mitch snorted and looked away from Auston with anger, “come on, Matthews. You already know I’m not stupid.”

 

“I don’t know what you’re on about, Mitchy,” Auston replied with an edge in his voice. 

 

“Don’t make me say it or you’ll be really fucked,” Mitch scoffed. 

 

Auston swallowed, fixing a stony face. “You already know what I did, so why should I say anything?” Auston questioned and stared Mitch down. Mitch didn’t back away.

 

“Auston Matthews, I’m warning you,” Mitch growled, heat rising in his voice. 

 

“I fucking killed Charles Alford and I don’t regret it one bit,” Auston said with a dismissive glare away from Mitch. 

 

“Why would you fucking do that? Did you kill Curran and Blaese too? You’re such a fucking idiot!” Mitch exclaimed. 

 

“Shut the fuck up Mitch, I fucking had to. They were all assholes and they deserved it,” Auston muttered darkly. 

 

“You had to? You didn’t have to do anything!”

 

“Yes, I did! Tell me you didn’t want to kill that fucking dick Charles after you felt better,” Auston taunted. 

 

“I didn’t,” Mitch lied through gritted teeth. 

 

“Sure, Mitch. We both know you can’t lie to me either,” Auston scoffed. 

 

“Shut the fuck up Auston! Do you want me to turn you in?” 

 

“Please,” Auston mocked, “you wouldn’t do that. You love me too much.”

 

“Jesus fucking Christ! Who do you think you are? Have you not changed from that arrogant little boy three months ago?”

 

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, Marns,” Auston spat out, venom drilling a hole into Mitch’s feelings. 

 

“Maybe I don’t,” Mitch scoffed, “but I’ve been following details of your murders for the past few months. I have  _ evidence _ of you. Patty could  _ find _ it. Don’t you understand?”

 

“I understand you need to keep your fucking mouth shut,” Auston sneered, his face contorted in an ugly way.

 

“Fucking make me, Matthews,” Mitch shot back, too worked up to consider relenting.

 

Auston growled deep in his throat, “do you really want to say that to a serial killer?”

 

“Is that a threat?” Mitch exclaimed, utterly beside himself. 

 

“It’s whatever you interpret it to be,” Auston replied snidely. 

 

“Fine! Fucking interpret this then, get out of my fucking life!” 

 

“Like you’d last a day without me!” Auston yelled, chest heaving from anger.

 

“Watch me, Matthews! Just watch me! Get out of my house!” Mitch shouted, going to push at Auston physically.

 

Auston snarled meanly, Mitch was pushing it. But fine, if he wanted it to be over, then Auston would comply. Mitch would only come running back to him in a few days. Mitch had no morals anymore. All that was in his mind was Auston. Like it was supposed to be.

 

“I’ll be there when you come running back,” Auston said coldly, stepping out into the hallway with a slam of the door. 

 

Auston couldn’t understand Mitch. He was taking the time to do all of this for Mitch, dissipating all his troubles from his past. Mitch could be  _ free _ now. He could be free and finally understand Auston. They could move on to the next stage of their relationship. 

 

But no. Mitch couldn’t comprehend it. 

 

He was making a very bad decision. But that’s how humans learn. And Auston was willing to wait. Finally, Mitch was going to know the difference between bad and good. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:
> 
> Minor descriptions of gore and blood, as Mitch describes the state of Alford's body. Underage kids (minor characters) are the first people who discover the body. Later on, Mitch uses the f*g word to describe himself, to explain to Mo and Kappy about when Charles had sexually assaulted him. 
> 
> There we go! Angry Auston is angry. But not really cuz he's actually not that angry. I'm gonna have fun writing the next few chapters, especially because there are a few scenes that I had already kind of planned ahead for. 
> 
> Anyways, thanks for reading!


	13. i need you here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. 
> 
> Great game today eh? (I'm kidding) I feel so bad for Auston, like I totally get how he feels with shoulder injuries. They suck. Hope he gets better soon.
> 
> Minor(ish?) trigger warnings in the endnotes! Please click away if anything gets too much for you.
> 
> Have fun!

“Are you okay?” Patty asked with a frown as Mitch slid into his seat next to Patty. 

 

“Do you have coffee?” Mitch asked earnestly, ignoring Patty’s question. Patty handed over a cup of Tim’s containing French Vanilla with a concerned glance. Mitch couldn’t drink actual coffee. It was way too bitter. He would have to have a triple-triple if he really wanted it to taste the way he wanted it to enjoy the taste. Plus, drinking coffee always made him kind of sleepy. It was rather counterintuitive. 

 

“That’s not real coffee,” Patty said. Mitch only hummed. 

 

“Why do you look like shit?” Patty questioned, not willing to let go of the topic. 

 

Mitch knew he looked really, really bad. He had to look in the mirror to get ready for work, after all. His eyes were bloodshot and puffy, riddled with dark bags. His face was pale and yellow, quite an ugly picture. He got angry after Auston left yesterday, which caused him to cry. He cried a lot. And sure, maybe it wasn’t all in anger. Maybe some of it was in sadness. But it didn’t matter. He still felt bone tired, emotionally worn out. Auston’s absence really did affect him, whether or not he wanted to admit it. There was a part of him missing. He couldn’t apologize to Auston when he didn’t do anything wrong. How was he supposed to deal with this? Auston Matthews filled a vital part of his life, a life that consisted of tight, unyielding morals. Auston destroyed every single piece of that. Mitch valued fairness, justice, and abiding the  _ law _ . Auston was a tornado, sweeping everything into his chaos and randomly discarded it whenever it felt right to him. Selfish and narcissistic. Justice wasn’t universal to Auston, it was only what pleased him. 

 

“Way to hurt my feelings, dad,” Mitch replied with a sarcastic lilt. 

 

“Come on Mitch,” Patrick stared. 

 

“This is getting old,” Mitch snorted humourlessly, “I got into a fight with Auston again. And I think we’re on a break.” All the laughter drained out of his face as he realised the extent of his words. They were on a break. Or were they broken up?

 

“Okay, I think I need to go personally beat him up now,” Patty said with a keen sharpness. Mitch appreciated it. He liked having people in his corner. 

 

“Go ahead, you can try,” Mitch smiled without any real emotion. 

 

“Next time, then,” Patty conceded. He felt a shift in Mitch’s mood. Mitch was unstable.

 

“What we doing today?” Mitch asked, sipping his French Vanilla with zeal.

 

“I talked to Dubas, you don’t have to thank me, and you’re free to keep working on this case. It’s not like you’ve been affected too much by it, and we have no actual evidence that he’s actually targeting you.”

 

“Great,” Mitch sighed. “ I still have a job.” He smiled with all teeth. 

 

“He’s not going to fire you,” Patty laughed. “You’re so dramatic.”

 

“Well, I just want to be safe,” Mitch justified with a flick of his wrist. “So if we’re still working on this case, what are we doing today?” 

 

“Going after Alford’s parents, if you’re up for it,” Patty joked. He knew Mitch wouldn’t take it very well. He had to disguise it with banter and light laughter. Mitch got worse when he was sad. 

 

“Oh,” Mitch stopped. He tried to not think about Alford’s parents mostly. He had a million questions from back then for them. Did they ever know of Alford’s disgusting nature? Did they care? Did they  _ encourage _ it? The answers all seemed like yes. And Mitch wasn’t mad. Of course not. He didn’t want to tear them apart. No. He was better than that. (He wasn’t. But that’s fine. No one could read his mind.)

 

“Is that okay?” Patty asked tentatively. He didn’t want to push Mitch too much.

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Mitchy started, shaking his head briefly, “for sure. Let’s go after I finish drinking this.” 

 

Patty grimaced internally. “Yeah. Okay.”

 

***

 

“We’re very sorry to bother you, Mrs and Mr Alford. Deep condolences for your loss,” Patty regaled the couple with a sombre greeting. Mitch and Patty were seated in the Alfords’ old loveseat. It looked quite mulled, complete with suspicious stains and dirty discolouring. It matched their debilitating townhouse that was smack-dab in midtown Toronto. 

 

Mrs Alford, Laurie, was still tearing up, carrying a box of tissues with her. Mr Alford, Larry, only sat there stone-faced. 

 

“No, no, we want to find out who did this,” Mrs Alford sobbed quietly. Oh god, Mitch didn’t want this. 

 

“For sure, Mrs Alford,” Mitch forced out, trying to keep a pleasant facade. He only needed to pretend he was sympathetic for a few hours. Only a few dozen minutes where he needed to be normal. Where he wasn’t crazy and torn apart by Auston Matthews, where he didn’t want to scream until his lungs hurt. Okay. Dealing with his rapist’s parents. He could do it. 

 

“When was the last time you last saw your son? I know he listed this address as his permanent residence,” Patty asked politely. 

 

“He went out to some bar out west a few days ago and never came back,” Mr Alford dismissed. “I assumed he ended up passed out drunk in a random alley.”

 

“Larry! Don’t be like that! My poor child,” Mrs Alford scolded, eyes still welling up. She swatted her husband lightly in the process, a look of disapproval clear in her face. 

 

“Do you happen to know which bar?” Patty furthered. 

 

“No, how would I know? That good for nothing boy never did anything of use. Always getting drunk and high in random places, not making it into the NHL. He always said he was going to go somewhere. Now, look at where he’s going, straight into the ground. At least he wasn’t a little faggot like his queer teammate back when the boy played hockey,” Mr Alford scoffed. Mitch tensed in his seat. He tried not to show it, but his mind went up in flames.

 

“Are you kidding me, Larry? The gays are nice, remember? All they do is throw parades! And stop talking about our son like that! Have some respect for Charlie!” Mrs Alford exclaimed. 

 

She was trying to make up for Alford’s brash statement. But the damage was already done. Homophobia was brought back into the forefront of Mitch’s brain again. He never cared about what anyone had to say about him, his actions, or his sexuality. But hearing it from the father of his rapist? That was too close to home. Too close to what had happened that night, with the way that Larry Alford was acting. He was a carbon copy of Charles. Or maybe Charles was a carbon copy of him. Whichever way, Mitch would need to find a way to calm down tonight, lest he wanted to have a breakdown. Only a few more notches before he would explode, drawing away to a place where he didn’t eat or socialize, much less work. 

 

“Of course,” Patty cleared his throat awkwardly. “Is there anything else that would be of importance? Did Charles have any significant others? Any enemies?”

 

“Girlfriends? Enemies?” Mr Alford looked disgruntled. “Of course not! That boy was too much of a pussy to do much of anything! Girlfriends were definitely out of the question! Fights? Maybe he pissed off some drug dealer or angry drunk at the bar.”

 

“Sorry to inform you, Mr Alford, but this was definitely a planned murder. We aren’t able to give you any more details at this time, but please be assured that you’ll know as soon as we are able to gather more information,” Patty informed quietly. 

 

“Thank you so much detective,” Mrs Alford said through a watery smile. “We appreciate your efforts.”

 

“We’re just here to help,” Mitch smiled a bit tightly. 

  
  
  
  


They arrived back at the department in the early afternoon, lunch already eaten and questioning conducted. Patty took a look at his phone and frowned.

 

Mitch stared up and asked, “what’s wrong, Patty?”

 

“Just the kids,” Patty answered. “Caleb’s got a game this afternoon, and Christina was supposed to take all the kids with her too. But now, Brody’s crazy sick. He needs someone to stay home with him.”

 

“Oh, Patty,” Mitch sighed resolutely, “you don’t need to stay. You’re a dad. Go help your family, you deserve a break.”

 

“I don’t want you to be alone,” Patty pushed out with worry. He fiddled with his phone a bit.

 

“I won’t be,” Mitch smiled shakily. “I bet I could get someone to come to keep me company.”

 

“Are you sure Mitchy?” Patty ensured with emphasis. He didn’t want Mitch to crash again, especially after that stressful situation with the Alfords. (Mitch had to breathe with his head in between his legs for ten minutes in Patty’s car. It wasn’t fun.)

 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be fine.” He probably wouldn’t. 

 

***

 

“Fuck!” Auston exclaimed as he slammed his fist on the back of his stall. He sat down heavily, still dressed in his gear, and hung his head between his arms. They’d played like shit that night. Their passes hadn’t connected, plays shut down, turnovers granted, and that was just the tip of the iceberg. He’d been in the box for eight minutes during the game, a value that was quite uncommon for him in a whole season, much less a single game. 

 

“What the fuck were you guys doing out there?” Babcock yelled, face red with anger and exertion. “If it were me, I’d say none of you guys even knew how to skate! We can’t just expect Freddie or Garrett to just block everything! You’ve got to help them!”

 

“Yes coach,” a few guys muttered. The rest all hung their heads with shame.

 

Auston didn’t listen to Babs. He didn’t care at the moment. He knew he was shit out there. He knew his passes weren’t going anywhere, he wasn’t skating fast enough, not thinking defensively and always trying to generate violent offence. His mind wasn’t in it, but his heart was in it a bit too much. It was like the hell road-trip from a few weeks back, the one where Mitch had fucked him over and gotten angry at him. 

 

And fine, fine. Mitch had been angry for a good reason then. But now? Now, Mitch had to grow up and  _ learn _ . Nothing was sunshine and roses, and Mitch should’ve known that by now. He couldn’t look at it like everything was black and white. Mitch needed to  _ change _ .

 

“What were you doing out there?” Freddie asked bluntly as he passed by Auston’s stall. If it was anyone else, Auston would’ve ripped them a new one. 

 

“Nothing,” Auston answered harshly, turning his head and averting Freddie’s gaze. His greasy hair fell in front of his face. 

 

“You took four penalties,” Freddie stated stoically. 

 

“I know,” Auston scoffed and ran a hand through his hair, trying to smooth it back out. His hand came back wet with sweat. 

 

“Why did you do this? Was it Mitch?”

 

“Don’t be like that, Fred,” Auston sneered.

“Was it Mitch?” Freddie pressed again, this time with more emphasis. 

 

“Fucking yes, okay! I made him mad again!”

 

“Well stop making him mad,” Freddie said and turned to go to his stall. 

 

“As if that’s fucking easy,” Auston muttered quietly to himself. 

 

After the brutal loss to the Bruins that night, Auston really wanted Mitch to help smooth his feelings over. It hurt even more as they were playing at home. Mitch really wasn’t far away. But that game started out like shit. The first period saw Auston stumbling and tripping his feet, Babs was right, it really looked like they didn’t know how to skate. The first goal of the game was scored by Marchand, early in the period. The smirk on his face was enough for Auston’s blood to boil even more. Boston scored two more times that period, Auston was on the ice during both the goals. He’d been the one who had given the turnover for at least one of them. And Freddie? He just got pelted by shots throughout the first. It wasn’t much better in the second either, with shots looking like twenty-two for Boston and a measly four for Toronto. Auston got called for a slashing call in the last few minutes of the period, resulting in a power-play goal for the Bruins. That. Was. Bull. Shit. 

 

The third period was a bit better, Auston pushing and fighting for at least a goal. He got rowdy and tried to play more offensively, to show off his power and gritty violence. All that got him was two more penalties, one due to fighting. They’d been scored on twice in the third again. The final score was 6-0 for Boston. 

 

The worst thing about that game was the fact that Auston had seen hope in the last period. They’d been there, generating plays and pushing the Bruins’ defence. And yet, it wasn’t enough. He had stumbled through the game blindly, finally gathering enough rage to push him through the third. All his energy was put into thinking about Mitchell Marner. The boy with the blue eyes and bright smile that could turn angry and sullen in a second. The cold, dark glare of his eyes that Auston had seen the last time he saw him really hit close to home. The only thing worse than that would be Mitch crying because of him.

 

Mitch was in his mind. And that wasn’t good. Soon enough, all of Auston’s body would only belong to Mitch. Every cell, every nerve ending would all be controlled by Mitch. His emotions would be dictated by Mitch’s every mood. Sharing hearts in every sense of the phrase.

 

Oh no. This only meant one thing. Love. He had fallen in love with Mitch. He gritted his teeth and clutched his hair. He didn’t know  _ how _ to fall in love and yet… Mitch. Mitch changed everything. He cared about someone now. He needed Mitch as much as Mitch needed him. It was a symbiotic relationship, but perhaps not a completely healthy one. It’d be okay. Auston was going to force it to happen, no matter what. There was nothing more important than Mitch other than...

 

Other than killing. There was nothing that felt the exact same as taking someone’s life. So what would happen if that was mixed with Mitch?

 

***

 

Mitch stumbled a bit as he walked over the slushy ground to the streetcar stop. His headphones were on tight, music blasting loudly in his ears. His commute was very short, either five stops by streetcar or two stops by subway. There was a sense of calm and joy he really liked whenever he took public transit, especially when he was on the buses or GO trains. The ability to just be able to sit there and do nothing but relax was something he needed every so often. And it was no doubt that today was one of those days. His trauma was uncovered again, forcing him to stop repressing everything and really deal with those unwanted emotions. And still all thanks to Auston fucking Matthews. 

 

The streetcar pulled up close, coming to a halt. Mitch waited for the little old lady in front of him to get up on the streetcar, giving a brief smile to her. He stepped on, quickly scanning his Presto card and smiling again to the driver. He looked around and chose a seat close to the front exit. He would be getting off fairly soon anyway.  

 

As he stared out the big windows, watching the pedestrians going about their daily lives, Mitch felt a sense of numbness. It was cold as if there wasn’t any heating in the streetcar. His fingertips felt like ice, brain shutting down and deciding to reboot into haywire mode. 

 

Okay. Okay. Mitch only had a few minutes before he could go breakdown in the privacy of his own cosy condo. He would need to call Marty. Maybe he’ll just text. He wasn’t in any shape to hold a conversation with someone, much less operate his phone correctly and dialling Marty. 

 

Mitch pulled down the yellow string that indicated “stop requested”, running quickly towards the door. He gave a meek and jumbled “thank you” to the driver and tried to smile neatly as he exited the streetcar. He was sure his “thank you” sounded more like a garbled cry for help and his smile a weak grimace. 

 

He quickly walked through the quick two blocks from the stop to his apartment, looking at his feet and trying to control his breathing. In, out. In, out. The warmth of his apartment was a welcome heat, enveloping him like a soothing hug. He threw his bag down, shed his boots and coat, and jumped straight to the couch. He left his headphones on, maybe that could help him calm down a bit. 

 

He felt his body warm up a bit, buried under blankets he kept for movie nights on the couch. He thought about Auston, hoping he was suffering as much as he was. He’d check the Leafs game out, maybe chirp Auston a bit even though he was probably playing great on the ice. Auston had caused all of this to happen, all of his stress and problems. But he would never give Auston up. Auston was his as much he was Auston’s. They were bonded by a strange interpretation of love. 

 

Love to Auston meant killing the person who hurt Mitch. The person who altered Mitch’s life completely. How could one person have so much control over someone else? A decision ruining someone else’s future wholly, without their own saying in it. Or maybe, Mitch was a coward. He was a coward for not standing up to Charles Alford. For not telling anyone about the true extent of Charles’ nature. His breathing sped up, heart racing and head pounding. He couldn’t breathe properly, too caught up in his thoughts. It went from zero to a hundred, his body panicking and heating up. 

 

He burst out of his cocoon of blankets, racing towards his balcony. Now he felt too  _ hot _ . He needed to calm down and  _ breathe _ . He managed to open the glass door somehow, plopping down suddenly onto the cold concrete. The frozen chill of the harsh winds forced Mitch to take a deep breath. Okay. He could do this. He could think about the things he liked. Puppies. Cats. Skating down a fresh sheet of ice. Shooting a puck into an empty net. That sense of satisfaction as another perp was locked behind bars. The euphoria and laughter that came from being with Auston. 

 

Mitch wracked in a shuddering gulp of air, nose and eyes stinging as he started tearing up. 

 

“What am I doing?” Mitch muttered to himself, tears welling up in his eyes. He never cried. 

 

He fumbled around in his suit pocket for his phone, pulling it out and directing Siri to text Marty to come over. The response came within minutes, a clear indication that Marty was going to be there as soon as possible. 

 

And Mitch sat there. Alone on his empty balcony on a cold winter night. The snow began to fall, fat fluffy flakes that seemed like it was made of wishes. Mitch could do that. He could make a wish.  _ I wish that I could be happy, _ he thought to himself.  _ As happy as I was when I was with Auston. _ He stared straight ahead, an errant breeze fumbling through his hair like a harsh caress. He wouldn’t text Auston. He needed Auston to learn a lesson. 

 

The doorbell to his apartment rang a few times, but Mitch didn’t want to get up from his spot on his balcony. He checked his phone, 8:24 PM. It had taken ten minutes for Marty to get here. How long had he been sitting out in the cold? The doorbell rang a few more times before his phone buzzed with an incoming call from Marty. He picked up, said a quick “it’s open” and hung up. 

 

The door creaked open as Marty entered.

 

“Mitch? Where are you?” Marty said with worry, tugging his coat off quickly and wandering the dark condo. 

 

“I’m out here,” Mitch croaked, still kind of crying. There was snot in his nose and snow on his face. This wasn’t his best look.

 

“Oh Mitchy,” Marty chided, scurrying over to Mitch and squatting down, “what are you doing?”

 

“I don’t know,” Mitch sobbed, running one hand through his spiky hair. He pulled his knees to his chest and buried his face in them. He didn’t really want Marty to see his red blotchy face. But he knew Marty wouldn’t laugh at him.

 

“Come here, Mitch,” Marty said before wrapping Mitch in a tight hug. Marty felt warm compared to the January weather in Toronto. Mitch burrowed deeper into Marty’s side, still sniffling. 

 

“What’s wrong?” Marty questioned softly. He could be a real dick sometimes, but also gentle as well.

 

“It’s just too much,” Mitch let out, curling tighter into a ball. 

 

“What’s too much, Mitch?” Marty murmured tenderly.

 

“Everything! The stupid case, Auston Matthews, dealing with my past?” Mitch laughed maniacally, the sound mixing uglily with his tears. 

 

Marty’s heart clenched. 

 

“What happened with Auston?” Marty prompted softly. 

 

Mitch could do it now. Tell Marty about Auston and he’d be free. But he’d never be able to, would he?

 

“We just had a bad fight. I think we’re on a break,” Mitch mumbled. “But I just want him back.”

 

“Mitch,” Marty started, “you really don’t deserve him if he keeps letting you down like this. I seriously feel like I need to get my hands dirty, professional hockey player be damned.”

 

“No,” Mitch denied, “it’s not like that. It’s just the timing, it’s horrible.”

 

“Hey,” Marty said. “Look at me, Mitch. I know you’re so strong. You’re going to move through this. Whatever you decide to do about Auston Matthews, I’ll still be here. I’ll support you no matter what, even if that means me beating him up.”

 

“Thanks, Marty,” Mitch smiled, tears in his eyes but at least he wasn’t sobbing anymore. 

 

“Maybe… Maybe I’ll get him back,” Mitch pondered out loud. 

 

“Yeah, Mitch, great idea. Kinda like a big fuck you to that guy,” Marty suggested. 

 

“That’s… not bad, actually,” Mitch said. “Thanks for this, Marty. I love you, man.”

 

“Me too, Marns. Whatever you need, just give me a call.” 

 

Mitch smiled to himself, glad for all the support he had. He’d get Auston back, he’d get revenge. Auston Matthews was going to be the one getting manipulated for once, right into Mitch’s hands. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:
> 
> Mitch and Patty go to meet with Charles Alford's parents. They're both homophobic and Mr Alford uses the words f*gg*t and q***r to describe homosexuals in a discriminating manner. Mitch kind of has a very minor panic attack, it's also briefly mentioned once. Please comment if there's anything else that needs to be added.


	14. even you would know he's mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “That’s a terrible idea,” Zach deadpanned, an unimpressed look on his face. 
> 
> “That’s a great idea!” Willy countered, crossing his arms. 
> 
> “It’s not that bad,” Kappy said, looking up at the ceiling in attempt to appear thoughtful. Mitch still thought he looked funny. Especially with his out-of-control hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. It's been a few weeks. I've been busy lmao. But there's only like one chapter left so there won't be too much of a wait for this complete fic! And this chapter is longer than the previous ones so I hope that kind of makes up for it. I've also had a few other fic ideas but I haven't started any WIPs yet. (Dw, they'll be less dark than this.) I was thinking of a royal AU and like one about Mitch and overcoming adversity. Wow. But 10k would probably be max length so. 
> 
> There aren't any trigger warnings in chapter (I think?) so if there are any please comment below. @Bidawee drew an amazing piece of work for this fic and I've finally implemented the scene that was inspired by it! There's a link in the end notes because I don't want to spoil anything!
> 
> Have fun!

Through two weeks of ignoring Auston, Mitch had realized a few things. One: he really missed Auston. Two: He was actually doing okay. Three: Auston just didn’t shut up. One common misconception about Auston was that he was very disinterested in everything and quite often annoyed with trivial matters. Well, that was true in some cases, but when it came to Mitch, Auston had absolutely zero chill. Mitch usually starts his day off in a rush, waking up at the latest time he would have to in order to be on time for work. That meant he rarely checked his phone in the morning, much less during work. So when he turned on his phone after work, he would always find at least one unread text from Auston. 

 

_ DON’T ANSWER, JAN. 4, 11:54 AM _

_ practice was shit, babs bag-skated us so bad _

 

_ DON’T ANSWER, JAN 5, 3:32 PM _

_ woke up from my pre-game nap _

_ i feel like shit _

 

_ DON’T ANSWER, JAN 8, 11:12 PM _

_ was at willy’s today _

_ we played cod _

_ i didn’t lose _

 

_ DON’T ANSWER, JAN 10, 11:37 PM _

_ willy never shuts up _

_ in a bad way _

_ not like when you talk because i love it when you talk _

 

_ DON’T ANSWER, JAN 14, 2:33 AM _

_ baby please _

 

_ DOESN’T SHUT UP, JAN 16, 6:43 PM _

_ i’m sorry _

_ i know what i said was wrong _

_ respond  _

 

_ DOESN’T SHUT UP, JAN 19, 11:23 PM _

_ did you see the game tonight _

_ i sucked _

_ i wonder why _

 

And those were only a few examples of the varying texts Mitch had received from Auston. It was kind of flattering, to be honest, if he wasn’t still kind of pissed at Auston. He knew he was being fairly petty, he wasn’t going to ignore that. But to some degree, Mitch was expecting this reaction. Maybe Auston was still bullshitting his ass off, trying to manipulate Mitch into believing his superficial lies. But Auston should know by now that Mitch wasn’t that kind of dumb. Mitch knows what Auston’s done and how wrong that was. Mitch was a _cop_. He put people like Auston _in jail_. He’s dealt with, or rather seen and heard of, criminals that were completely fucked _up_. Auston couldn’t compare with those people. But maybe Auston was scarier. Because he wasn’t completely fucked up and the amount of damage he could truly do was terrifying. There was a boundary he hadn’t crossed yet, and Mitch was scared to find out if Auston would. Would putting him behind bars help? (Would it even work?) Or would Auston just come back bigger and worse than before, but this time with a vengeance for Mitch? That wasn’t something Mitch wanted to find out. So maybe he just needed to watch this all play out. Maybe he could help Auston, not change him per se, but just guide him enough so he didn’t commit terrible and disastrous crimes. Auston gets to keep killing people that society needed to be rid of and Mitch gets Auston in return. A win-win situation for both of them. 

 

And despite receiving Auston’s multiple texts a day, Mitch didn’t respond. He left Auston on read. It’s not like he wouldn’t respond forever, he just needed some time to come up with a plan to move forward. His main goal was to upset Auston to the point where nothing but going back to Mitch made sense. Doing that, he could get minimize the damage of Auston’s actions. But he hadn’t come up with anything yet. Nothing that would push Auston into the same pit of swirling anger and distress that had swallowed Mitch for a week. Auston had yet to suffer for real, to understand what emotions were. So yeah. Still a work in progress. 

 

But Mitch was doing great. Well, really, he was doing better. He wasn’t having breakdowns where he had to go to the balcony to calm down while subsequently freezing his ass off. He didn’t get sickeningly drunk on cheap vodka (even though he could afford the good stuff) for at least two or three days. He counted that as a win. But, really, he did miss Auston. He missed his stupid smile that lit his eyes up and showed off his pearly whites. It was truly distinct from his normal resting face. And Mitch also missed Auston acting as his human teddy bear. Mitch craved physical contact, craved it like he did with oxygen. And Auston had a big body, all thighs and torso and biceps. Mitch liked that. He liked the thickness of Auston’s muscles and how comforting his arms were. And sometimes, the strength they exerted. He’s been thinking about that a lot. Mitch was okay with missing a few more days of Auston. He’d have him forever after that, anyway.

 

The past two weeks weren’t too stressful either. Auston didn’t start killing again, which was truly a blessing for Mitch. The only thing Patty and he needed to focus on was a gang shooting that had occurred a few days back in North York. This, thankfully, was more urgent than the “Angel of Death” murders. Two members of different  rival gangs had commenced a shootdown in the middle of a rather cheap mall, killing an adult and a teenager and injuring another child. The two men who had fired the shots escaped unscathed, leaving behind chaos and fear in the eyes of witnesses and local civillians. Then, a few days later, a group of men had again opened fire in the streets of a neighbourhood nearby. No one was hurt, thankfully, except maybe the men shooting, but witnesses from the area reported hearing gunshots. So far, there were two gangs that were being examined; the Asian Assassinz and Chin Pac. But soon, they might hand things over to the uniformed officers after establishing the perpetrators’ true identity. 

 

Today, however, Mitch got to relax. It was a sunny Sunday afternoon in January and he didn’t need to worry about any crime syndicates for the rest of the day. He was over at Willy’s with Kappy and Hymie. It was going to be a day full of Chel, COD, and Fortnite. Though Mitch felt like he was getting to that age where playing video games seemed kind of pointless. 

 

“Pass the controller, Willy,” Kappy said from Mitch’s right. 

 

“No!” Willy yelled. “Get it yourself!” He was busy beating Hyms in Chel, already up by two.

 

“Willy,” Zach scolded as he skated down the ice with the puck in his possession in the game. 

 

“Shit! I’m a little busy!” Willy threw back as he tried to force a turnover from Zach.

 

“Mitch?” Kappy looked over. 

 

“Just take mine, I’m too lazy to play,” Mitch said as he sprawled back onto the couch, and subsequently on Kappy as well. 

 

“Thanks, Mitchy,” Kappy replied. “You doing okay with Matthews?”

 

“Yeah,” Mitch sighed, staring on as Zach started making a comeback. “I’m okay. I just want to, I don’t know, take revenge?”

 

“Take revenge?” Kappy stared at Mitch with an incredulous look. 

 

“Don’t look at me like that! I just, like, want to make Auston realize that he’s wrong,” Mitch shrugged awkwardly, bumping into Kappy. 

 

“Aren’t you guys on a break?” 

 

Mitch looked up, staring at Kappy’s upside down face. He looked kind of funny like that and he still hadn’t shaved his awful beard yet. 

 

“Uh, it was implied. But he’s been texting me, so it’s not like he doesn’t want this to be a thing!” Mitch justified quickly, crossing his arms. 

 

“Are you guys talking about Auston?” Zach chimed in, peeking his head in front of Willy’s spot beside Mitch.

 

“Uh, yeah,” Mitch groaned. It was kind of embarrassing talking about his not-boyfriend in front of his teammates. 

 

“What about him?” Hyms asked, eyebrows raised. 

 

“Nothing,” Mitch said. “Just wanna get him back.”

 

“Yeah,” Willy said loudly, “Mitchy’s still kinda pissed at him. But I think for good reason, at least.” Kappy nodded along in approval. 

 

“Well,” Hyms started, “Auston’s been doing pretty bad. But maybe that’s just because of our roadie.” 

 

Mitch snorted, sitting up. The Leafs usually did great on away games. That had nothing to do with how shit Auston was playing. He hadn’t taken a shot in at least two or three games. But really, it wasn’t that fun thinking of Auston and hockey and having a disconnect between the two. 

 

“I don’t want him to make him bad at  _ hockey _ ,” Mitch complained. “That has nothing to do with the way he acts in his personal life.” Mitch stopped. “Well, it does. But that’s not what I mean.” 

 

“I still don’t get it, why are you and Auston fighting again?” Hymie questioned with a puzzled face, leaving Willy alone with the Chel game and quitting. Willy squawked in disbelief as Zach abandoned him. Kappy only looked on in amusement. 

 

“Uh, it’s complicated. Trust issues,” Mitch came up belatedly. He smiled weakly. 

 

“So, now you want to get revenge?” Zach clarified. 

 

“Yup,” Mitch said. But he didn’t know what to do. 

 

“Just make him jealous!” Willy sighed, pushing away his controller dramatically. 

 

“That’s a terrible idea,” Zach deadpanned, an unimpressed look on his face. 

 

“That’s a great idea!” Willy countered, crossing his arms. 

 

“It’s not that bad,” Kappy said, looking up at the ceiling in attempt to appear thoughtful. Mitch still thought he looked funny. Especially with his out-of-control hair. 

 

“How is that not bad?” Mitch questioned disbelievingly. 

 

Kappy hummed, “jealousy is a great tool.”

 

“Wow, thanks for the great insight,” Mitch muttered sarcastically. 

 

“Just think about it! If Auston’s jealous, and we all know that he gets jealous pretty easily, then he’ll actually think about the relationship he has with you! He’ll want to have you back, it’s how he is,” Willy added. 

 

“And your thoughts, Hymie?” Mitch questioned.

 

“I mean, it won’t be the worst idea,” Zach shrugged. 

 

“And it won’t be the bes, either,” Mitch muttered under his breath. 

 

“You see! You know what, we’ll go clubbing together,” Willy suggested with a wild look in his eyes. “You’ll get to let loose, have fun with some guys, and string Auston along. But not too hard. Auston’s feelings are very important too.” Willy added a glare at the end.

 

Mitch looked to Kappy for advice. 

 

“I think that’d be good, Marns,” Kappy smiled. “You need to have fun once in a while. Just chill for a bit, you know?” 

 

Mitch pondered about it for a minute. Riling Auston up? That might not be the smartest idea, but he was damned if it wasn’t one of the more intriguing scenarios that he wanted to witness. And it wasn’t like Mitch hadn’t thought about it before. He’s always wanted to see Auston mad. (He has before but that was directed at him. He’d like to see it directed at other people for once.) Mitch wanted to know how Auston would act if he was provoked by some stupid tryst at a club. What would he do if he saw Mitch with someone else? How deep were his limits? How shallow were his restraints? It would be interesting, to say the least. 

 

“So this wouldn’t be, like, a trash thing to do?” Mitch asked Hyms. 

 

“Maybe not completely,” Zach said. “But kind of.”

 

“Then let’s do it,” Mitch smiled as Kappy and Willy high-fived behind him. “Let’s go tonight.”

 

Maybe this was going to be the best decision of his life.

 

***   
  


Auston felt a buzzing in his pocket and dug his phone out hurriedly. He’s been checking his phone like crazy since the last two weeks; any notification could be from Mitch. Oh. It was just the delivery service he used saying his lunch was ready to be delivered. That was fine. 

 

It wasn’t fine. 

 

Auston felt pathetic. He’d been reduced to a clingy mess, resorting to sending text messages to Mitch every single day. He was absorped in Instagram, always renewing his feed and trying to see what pictures Mitch had liked and commented on. The only thing that differentiated him from a stalker was the fact that he didn’t physically try to follow Mitch around. He was too busy for that and he really didn’t want to get arrested for trespassing on police property.

 

Why was he doing this in the first place? Why was Mitch so special to him? Sure, he  _ loved _ Mitch in a way that he hadn’t ever loved before. But why was that? Perhaps it was the benefit Mitch posed to him, an in with law enforcement. No, if Auston only wanted that, there were easier people he could’ve manipulated. There was just something so special about Mitch, his personality. The effect of trauma on his brain, how it made Mitch so angry yet so determined to keep it down instead of dealing with it sufficiently. Mitch was ashamed of his anger. And that was interesting. Mitch knew his own opinions were immoral, but he wanted so bad to be honorable and just. Auston loved that. He loved the conflict roiling on inside of Mitch’s head.

 

Yet that was only one part of it. Mitch was fun, outgoing, and easy to be around when he wasn’t being petty. It was so simple living with Mitch, someone that finally  _ understood _ him at that level. At the level where Mitch could practically read his mind and discern Auston’s needs and wants. 

 

And what Auston needed was Mitch’s strength. That undying willpower behind the cogs of Mitch’s being. 

 

He missed having someone to hold on to, to embrace and protect. He missed laughing until he cried. With Mitch, it happened daily. He missed looking in Mitch’s direction and being able to communicate with a stare. He missed Mitch’s bright smile, too big for his face. He missed Mitch’s long lashes, framing those grey-blue eyes. He missed miles of smooth skin stretched across lean muscles that could exert a surprising amount of power. He missed Mitch’s lips, bitten pink and slick with saliva. 

 

He missed Mitch. Period. 

 

And Auston guessed he didn’t care anymore. Auston didn’t care about being pathetic, not when it meant getting Mitch back.  

 

He took his phone out again, scrolling through Instagram. And also Mitch’s profile. Nothing’s changed from the last time he checked, which was a few days ago. He decided not to text Mitch yet, maybe he’ll get drunk again before the end of the night. That wouldn’t be very responsible; he had a game tomorrow against the Sabres. 

 

Maybe he’ll just go work out after he eats his lunch. Yeah. That was better than moping after Mitch all day.

  
  
  


Auston stumbled awake as his phone buzzed loudly in his pocket. Auston shot up from the uncomfortable position he happened to end up in on his couch and dug around for his phone. He squinted groggily. He had fallen asleep in the afternoon where sunshine had streamed in from the big open windows, but now, there was no light at all. Just darkness. He turned his phone on and winced at the bright glare in the otherwise pitch-black room. Holy shit. Mitch texted him. 

 

_ Baby, JAN 20, 6:36 PM _

_ 473 Adelaide St W, 9:00 pm _

 

Auston’s brain short-circuited. Did that mean he was supposed to meet Mitch there tonight? He quickly pulled up google maps and put in the address. It was a club. But really, was Auston kidding with all the contemplation? If there was ever a chance to see Mitch again, he would take it. So what if Mitch wanted to meet at a club? If Mitch wanted him black-out drunk, then fine. It wasn’t going to be his fault that the only pair of clean jeans he had was the pair that was a bit too tight on him with sufficient material cut out at the knees. 

  
  
  


Auston arrived at the club at five before nine thanks to his uber driver, Raheel. He thanked the man, paid on his phone with a fifteen percent tip and left. He found himself in front of a warehouse, all old bricks and black wooden doors. He didn’t doubt the location, though, Auston could hear the music pounding all the way from several metres away. He braced himself and shook his head a little, pulling his Jays cap lower. 

 

When Auston finally entered the club, he was mildly surprised. The interior of the building was quite spacious, square columns holding up the ceiling with a kind of elegant feel to it. Multi-coloured lights shone around and lit the place up with hues of purple and blue. It felt a little bit classier than most clubs. He sidled up to the bar and ordered a coke. He was thirsty but he didn’t want to get drunk. Yet. 

 

He stood at the bar for a few minutes and just took in his surroundings. There was a DJ in the back of the club where dozens of people were gathered towards, jumping and dancing and singing along. He didn’t see Mitch. He checked his phone. It was 9:07 PM. The music was giving him a headache. There were a few girls standing off to the side, giggling and staring at him as if they wanted to flirt with him. He sighed and pulled his cap lower again. He looked to his side and saw… Willy?

 

He stalked towards him with irritation and surprise, “Willy is that you?”

 

The man turned around in surprise. It was Willy. Who was with Zach. 

 

“Oh, Auston, hey,” Willy greeted, smiling at Auston. “What are you doing here?”

 

“Mitch texted me to come, why are you guys here?” Auston hissed, staring at both Willy and Zach. 

 

“We’re just here to have a good time, you know,” Willy laughed, slapping Auston on the back. Zach disappeared. Auston pointed in the direction Zach had left with a look of disbelief on his face, Willy just waved him off with a scrunched up smile.

 

“We have a game tomorrow,” Auston deadpanned. 

 

“It’ll be fine,” Willy dismissed, smiling languidly. Auston sighed again.

 

“What’d you have to drink?” Auston asked. 

 

“Just a few shots, nothing major,” Willy replied. Auston nodded. Sure, okay. Like Auston believed that.

 

Auston turned back to Willy again, “have you seen Mitch?”

 

Willy shook his head. “Mitch? Is he supposed to be here? I thought you guys were on a break.”

 

Auston scowled. “Well. I’m trying to make it so we’re not on a break. I’m gonna go try finding him. He told me to come, anyway. See you.” 

 

Willy waved a goodbye, smiling wickedly, “don’t fuck it up.”

 

What the fuck. 

 

Auston walked towards the dance floor with trepidation. His heart wasn’t pounding yet, but he was kind of wary. He was aware of people ogling at his physique, but he hoped he was inconspicuous enough that no one thought he was Auston Matthews. As he walked closer to the mass of bodies jumping along to the thrumming base, he could see a man that looked a lot like Mitch. No, wait, he was Mitch. It seemed like forever since the last time he saw Mitch, and Auston couldn’t express the emotions he felt. Mitch looked good, clad in tight jeans, a white v-neck, and a stupid jean jacket. A Canadian tuxedo. Mitch looked like he was having fun, smiling and laughing along to the tune of the song. Auston was about to run up to Mitch when he saw who Mitch was smiling at. Another guy. Mitch turned his head, looking straight at Auston unintentionally. His face changed into a look of recognition before grinning wickedly, taunting Auston. Mitch turned back to the guy he was dancing with and pulled him closer, kissing him on the cheek before whispering something in his years. The other man flushed, eyes gleaming at Mitch’s words.

 

This was fucking unreal. Mitch Marner taunting him? Who did he think he was? A wave of lurching rage bubbled in Auston’s stomach like acid, growing stronger and stronger as each second passed that Mitch was still in the arms of the horrid man. The person Mitch was dancing with looked very similar to Auston. He was stocky and big and built–not as much as Auston, of course–and was only a few centimetres shorter than Auston but still taller than Mitch. The man flipped his black curls out of his face, tugging at Mitch’s waist so Mitch’s back was cradled by his chest. Auston felt a sense of indignation at that. Mitch was his. No one touched him like that except for Auston. And even Mitch knew that. There was a tangible indication that Mitch was taken. Everyone could see it.  

 

Auston stalked closer, holding Mitch’s stare, looking into those blue eyes. Those eyes that had captured him first. His muscles were tense, power coiled tightly as he was prepared to display his dominance. Mitch blinked a few times, flaunting those long lashes. He snaked a hand to the back of the man’s neck and ground his ass into the man’s cock. The man moaned. Auston clenched his fists, tendons in his arms bulging out. 

 

Auston’s face looked murderous. He had a desire to kill this man, but there was no point. Too messy and too much work. But he wouldn’t mind smacking him around for a bit. 

 

“What the fuck are you doing, Mitch?” Auston spat out, as he finally pushed through all the moving bodies. 

 

Mitch smirked, “I’m just having some fun with Jack here, aren’t we?”

 

Jack gazed in Auston’s direction, snapping out of the haze of lust that Mitch had trapped him in. 

 

“Yeah,” he said, glaring at Auston. “We’re gonna have so much fun tonight, babe.” 

 

Auston’s eye twitched. 

 

“You’re not gonna do shit with him,” Auston forced out, a malicious tone worming its way into his words. 

 

“Who the fuck are you, man? Who do you fucking think you are?” Jack huffed, eyes squinting up and chest puffing. He pulled away from Mitch with a hand on his hip and faced Auston. The vein in Auston’s forehead throbbed once. 

 

“I’m his fucking boyfriend, asshole,” Auston hissed as he moved towards Mitch, placing a long arm around Mitch’s waist, practically tugging MItch towards himself. 

 

Mitch said nothing, allowing a hint of a smirk to shine through his otherwise fake shocked and distressed appearance and let Auston manhandle him subtly.

 

“Yo, what the fuck?” Jack glared. “Is that true?”

 

“We’re on a break,” Mitch drawled, crossing his arms. He was happy to let this continue. 

 

“Did you hear that, motherfucker? Get your hands off of him, you’re not even together.” 

 

Auston fumed. 

 

“He hasn’t protested yet, dickhead. Go find someone else to thirst after,” Auston seethed, tightening his arm around Mitch. Mitch pretended to wince in pain. God fucking dammit. 

 

“Dude, what are you fucking doing? Stop that shit! You’re hurting him!” Jack yelled, pushing Auston away from Mitch. 

 

“Are you fucking serious, man?” Auston said in disbelief. His anger returned double fold, drilling him with adrenaline and the need to  _ do _ something to Jack. 

 

“Yeah jackass, stop being such a dick,” the other man scoffed. He got up in Auston’s personal space, looking stupid as he tried to make himself seem bigger. Auston flexed his muscles a bit, showing them off as he tried to intimidate the other guy. Auston needed to punch him or else he would resort to the other option. And he couldn’t do that tonight with all these people around. 

 

People were starting to look at them, whispering and seeming ready to intervene. Auston quickly darted his eyes around the room, taking stock of the situation. Mitch had slipped out between them and stood off to the side, hiding his smile underneath his hand. Zach and Willy were standing near the bar, Willy frantically indicating “stop” with his hands while Zach stared on in disappointment. 

 

“Shut the fuck up, you’re drawing too much attention. You wanna fucking settle this? Take this outside?” Auston sneered. 

 

“Just let Mitch fucking go,” Jack said with a hiss.

 

“What,” Auston laughed meanly, “are you scared?” Jack’s nostrils flared as his hands clenched into fists.

 

“Fine, if you want to get fucked up that bad, let’s go outside,” Jack gritted

 

“Let’s fucking go then,” Auston retorted, turning towards the door. He had no doubt Willy, Hyms, and Mitch were all going to follow them. Maybe Mitch would convince Willy and Zach to stay behind. He glanced back towards Mitch, glaring at him and trying to convey that into his stare. Mitch nodded slightly, slinking off towards Willy and Zach’s direction. Auston was thankful that Mitch had at least listened to that. 

 

Auston rolled his shoulders, moving through the crowd of sweaty bodies. The pounding beat of the music in the club thrummed beneath his skin, edging him on. He could feel the jumpiness under his fingertips, the blood-boiling need for violence. He pushed out into the street, harshly turning left until he found a dark alley.

 

He waited for Jack to enter the alley and said, “do not get the police involved. If I fuck you up, you can’t report this. Same goes for the other way.” 

 

“As if you’d ever win,” Jack scoffed. Jack barely got the words out before he got slammed with a solid punch to the nose, a satisfying crunch echoing in the brick-built walls of the alley. Auston had put his full force behind it, probably breaking bones. Jack hunched over, hands shielding his nose as he cried out in pain. He gingerly pulled his hands away from his nose, blood dripping from his nose and hands. Auston looked down at his own hands, warm with the dark liquid. 

 

“You little–” Jack started as he lunged towards Auston. Even with Jack’s body-build, there was nothing he could do to win against Auston. Auston took ahold of both Jack’s arms, gripping them tightly in his hands and twisted them behind his back. Jack grunted. Auston spun Jack around, pushing him face-first into the brick wall closest to them. Jack gasped as his lungs felt the crushing weight of Auston’s entire body. 

 

“Have you had enough?” Auston said coldly, voice dripping with venom. 

 

“You fucking bastard,” Jack huffed out, out of breath and heaving from pain. The blood was still dripping from his nose. Auston’s hand was still sticky with it. 

 

“Do you still want to go on?” Auston pushed. Jack gritted his teeth. Auston tightened his hold on Jack, ramming him harder into the wall. 

 

“Fucking fine! I don’t want anything to do with you or your shitty boyfriend anyway!” Jack shouted, wriggling around in Auston’s hold. Auston released Jack, stepping away from him. Jack opened his mouth, seeming like he wanted to say something or to retaliate. But with the state he was in, nose still streaming like a fountain and bruises everywhere, it seemed like he was a bit too scared to do much of anything. He pointed at Auston and glared before running away. 

 

What a fucking idiot. Auston looked down at his hands. They were bloody. He looked up again, this time seeing Mitch standing at the opening of the alleyway. It was too dark to make out his expression. 

 

Auston scowled, adrenaline sliding through his veins rapidly, creating a jumpy tension in his muscles. Auston panted, his breath fanning out into the cold air with a cloud of misty white. He stepped closer to Mitch. Mitch crossed his arms, face unreadable. He was waiting for Auston to make the first move.

 

“Did you stay for all of that?” Auston scoffed, wanting to adjust his cap. But he didn’t want to get it all bloody. 

 

“I stayed for enough of it, at least,” Mitch spoke, voice thick with nonchalance. There was a hint of arousal in his eyes, betrayed by his keen stare. 

 

“What was the point of that?” Auston gritted, clenching his fists so he wouldn’t grab Mitch. 

 

“I don’t know,” Mitch said breathily, “did you have fun?”

 

“No, I didn’t have fun,” Auston said with disdain. 

 

“I thought you liked fucking people up,” Mitch let out easily, stepping a tiny bit closer to Auston. Auston growled in the back of his throat. 

 

“I don’t,” he denied. 

 

“Really?” Mitch quirked his eyebrow up, street-lamps backlighting his face. It was eery. 

 

“You know why I do those things,” Auston let out. “Stop being so infuriating.”

 

Mitch laughed, “infuriating? Me? How am I the one being infuriating?” Auston was too pissed off to do this.

 

He grabbed Mitch by the hips tightly, turning Mitch’s back to one of the brick walls and pushing him up against it with gentle force. A reminder and warning of what Auston could do to him. Mitch gasped slightly, eyes coming up to meet Auston’s with a pretty flit of his ashes. Auston used his left hand and manoeuvred both of Mitch’s wrists above his head with a tight grip. His other hand went to cup Mitch’s face, smearing it with a swipe of scarlet blood. Mitch looked so pretty like this, pink lips parted while blue, blue eyes stared into his, the red blood creating a perfect contrast against his pale skin. 

 

“Don’t do this,” Auston warned with a press of his hips. Mitch smirked.

 

“Do what?”

 

“Don’t pretend this isn’t what you wanted,” Auston sneered. “That you didn’t come here just to make me jealous. Did you enjoy it? Did you enjoy me beating some douchebag just for you? Don’t lie, Mitch. Don’t tell me it didn’t turn you on.” 

 

Mitch flushed a bit. “It didn’t.” 

 

“I know what you’re doing. I know you get off on this. Did you want me to kill him, Mitchy? Did you want him to die?” Auston tightened his hold on Mitch’s wrists. Mitch closed those pretty eyes with a hitch in his breath, lips parting slightly. 

 

“I don’t,” Mitch replied, wriggling his hands out of Auston’s hold. Auston let him. “But I want you to understand.” He stared into Auston’s eyes, some foreign emotion swirling inside of his eyes that Auston couldn’t quite figure out. It made him all the more lovely. 

 

Auston surged up, cupping both hands around Mitch’s jaw and kissed him firmly. Mitch stiffened but quickly relaxed. The kiss was close-mouthed yet passionate, their lips slotting against each other with an old familiarity. Auston pushed harder, practically running Mitch into the wall, as Mitch’s hands came to rest around his torso. The kiss deepened, spurred on by days of not being apart. Auston inhaled deeply, pulling away for a brief second, and smelled the distinct scent of Mitch and cold wind. He pushed back, delving into Mitch’s mouth with a sense of urgency. Mitch moaned quietly, lips becoming slick with saliva. Auston felt warmth blossoming within his body, his need to see and reclaim Mitch rising up. They continued kissing, noses bumping and teeth clacking. Auston bit at Mitch’s lip, drawing a surprised yet pleased sound out of him. His hands roamed down, smearing blood against Mitch’s jean-jacket, and traced Mitch’s ribs. Mitch jerked out of Auston’s hands, he was ticklish.

 

“Stop it,” Mitch panted, face flushed and lips red. Auston swiped his tongue across his bottom lip. 

 

“Let’s go back to your place,” Auston said, voice throaty and deep with arousal. “How’d you get here?” 

 

“Uber,” Mitch replied. “It’s a five-minute walk. If we hurry it’s only three.”

 

“What are we waiting for then?” Auston smirked. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the link to @Bidawee's [art piece](https://cursivecherrypicking.tumblr.com/post/178097672288/a-piece-of-fanwork-for-everything-about-you-is). There may be some differences between the drawing and the actual scene, but the piece is still amazing! Like I wish I was half as good. 
> 
> This fic is crazy. How did I ever write half of this. What is even the conflict? If any of you can point out the part that I wanted the conflict to be in the comments then I actually did a good job of writing this. 
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading! Last chapter next update!


	15. sharing my heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You should keep the beard like that,” Mitch spoke, staring into Auston’s eyes.
> 
> “Yeah?” Auston asked, raising an eyebrow. He was waiting for Mitch to breach the topic. Daring him to open the proverbial can of worms. 
> 
> “Yeah,” Mitch confirmed. 
> 
> “Do you like it?” Auston smirked, stretching an arm behind his head, showing off his muscles. 
> 
> “You could say that,” Mitch smiled softly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow okay! This is done then! Last chapter of this fic. Pretty surreal to be honest, but I'm glad I was able to finish this. I did not expect the fic to turn out like this, but I'm sufficiently happy with how it turned out. 
> 
> So some warnings before we start, there's a brief mention of a child rapist in passing near the end of the chapter. There's no detailed description, he literally gets mentioned once. 
> 
> So. For the last time, have fun guys!

Pale sunlight streamed in from Mitch’s windows, passing through his sheer curtains. Mitch blinked a few times. It was unusual to see vibrant sunshine in Toronto in the middle of January, or rather during the entirety of winter. Mitch would take the unexpected weather though, any bit of warmth in the winter was better than none at all. He tried to move his body, but then his mind caught up. Auston was spooning him from behind, a strong arm laying heavily over his waist. Mitch snaked his arms out from the covers, stretching lazily without disturbing Auston. He reached out for his phone and checked the time. 7:26 am. He had a few more minutes before he had to get up. 

 

A few more minutes where he would have to deal with this whole Auston situation in a few quick words. God, maybe he shouldn’t have had tried that whole spiel at the club. But at least it worked. And really, Mitch had wanted to do it too. He was finally able to release that tension that had built up over these last few weeks last night, like a rubber-band snapping from tension. And it had felt so  _ good _ to be able to let go and relax with Auston again. It had been so long since he was able to see Auston, to touch Auston. 

 

And he didn’t regret it. Not at all. Sleeping with a serial killer was probably not the most professional or even smartest thing to do based on his career, but he’d already done it before. Multiple times. So it wasn’t like he’d been committing a new crime. He had made his decision to not turn Auston back when he first found out, so he couldn’t do so now. He really didn’t want to anyways. Maybe he could just help Auston. Allow him to output his anger in a healthier way. That sounded like such a joke to him. 

 

Auston shifted behind Mitch’s back, pushing closer to Mitch. The heavy weight of Auston behind his back was a comforting warmth. The arm on Mitch’s waist lifted. Mitch turned around and followed its movement with his eyes. Auston moved his arm and ran it through his hair then rubbing at his jaw. 

 

“You should keep the beard like that,” Mitch spoke, staring into Auston’s eyes.

 

“Yeah?” Auston asked, raising an eyebrow. He was waiting for Mitch to breach the topic. Daring him to open the proverbial can of worms. 

 

“Yeah,” Mitch confirmed. 

 

“Do you like it?” Auston smirked, stretching an arm behind his head, showing off his muscles. 

 

“You could say that,” Mitch smiled softly. 

 

“Do you like  _ me _ ?” Auston pushed, shuffling closer to Mitch. Mitch indulged him, allowing Auston to pull him into a loose embrace. 

 

“I do,” Mitch murmured into Auston’s neck. “Even if I don’t agree with you. A lot of the time.”  _ I love you. _

 

“I like you too,” Austons said back. “Even though you make my head hurt.”  _ I love you too. _

 

“You know, we should do something about that,” Mitch said offhandedly, still clutching onto Auston. 

 

“About?” Auston said, amused. 

 

“About our… differences,” Mitch said gingerly. 

 

“You mean our everclashing morals?” A snort from Auston. 

 

“It’s not that I completely disagree with you and your opinions! And I can’t afford to completely agree with you, either. Even if I said I completely disagreed with you, you’d just call me out on my bullshit. But it’s just not realistic to continue like this, Auston,” Mitch sighed. “You can’t just go around killing everyone and not expect me, a  _ cop _ , to do anything about it.” 

 

“I know,” Auston scoffed. 

 

“Then you can’t keep  _ doing _ what you have in the past. It’s too dramatic, too  _ much _ ,” Mitch let out. “You have to let me work, okay?” Mitch shuffled back a bit and looked into Auston’s eyes. 

 

Auston sighed. “Okay.” 

 

Mitch smiled, face beaming. He gave Auston a quick close-mouthed kiss on the lips before doing so on his cheek. Mitch leapt out of bed quickly, shivering a bit at the coldness of his condo. The chilly air in his apartment was ever-present in the mornings. It never really went away during the winter. Auston groaned briefly, not happy with Mitch being far away. 

 

“Mitchy,” Auston whined. “Why’d you get up, babe?” Auston flopped back onto his belly, face smushed sideways towards Mitch. 

 

“It’s, like, almost eight,” Mitch laughed. “You have a game today. So you gotta get up. And I have work, too, so like.” 

 

Mitch ran off to the bathroom, leaving Auston on the bed and going to do his business. Mitch returned to his room to see Auston lying in the same spot. He quickly grabbed some clothes and changed. Mitch pursed his lips. He jumped onto his bed, displacing Auston. Auston squawked, pushing him.

 

“Hey! Be careful of the suit!” Mitch exclaimed, smoothing his rumpled blazer. 

 

“I’d rather you take it off entirely,” Auston muttered, lifting his head up a bit. His hair fell in streaks in front of his face.

 

“A bit counterintuitive when I have to go to work,” Mitch said with a tilt of his lips. He checked the time again, 7:58 am.

 

“Okay,” Mitch started, mood turning serious. He bit his lip. “I actually have to leave soon. I still want to make a few things clearer. Do you want to talk more about stuff now or tomorrow?” 

 

Auston’s face hardened into solemnity. “Let’s just get it over with.”

 

“But it has to be quick, I have to leave in, like, ten minutes.” 

 

Auston groaned, sitting up, “yeah, fine.” That left his entire upper half exposed. His gold thirty-four chain was on full display across his clavicles, drawing attention to the span of tan skin. How was his skin still tan during winter? Mitch swallowed back a keen, trying to focus on Auston’s face that showed a rather pissy scowl.

 

“Hey, act like an adult,” Mitch said, referring to Auston’s immature countenance.

 

“I am,” Auston shot back. 

 

Mitch shot him a look, “can we just end this stupid fucking fight? I’m wrong, but you’re also wrong. You’re probably more wrong. I’m literally going against all my years of training.” Mitch paused. “But that’s not the point.”

 

“Fine,” Auston said. “I’m wrong too, but I’m not going to apologize for killing those people or for you not turning me in.” 

 

Mitch snorted. “What if they find out anyway and I get thrown into jail for knowing?”

 

“It won’t matter, ‘cause we’ll both be in jail together,” Auston stated. “You’re  _ mine _ , Mitchy. You don’t get to decide what happens to you. I do.”

 

“Wow, Matts, still as big of a dick as when we first met,” Mitch drawled. But Mitch would be lying if that didn’t turn him on a tiny bit. 

 

“Shut the fuck up Marns, you know it’s true,” Auston scowled. 

 

“Okay.” Mitch laughed. “Think again. You’re mine, too, Auston. You belong to me as much as you have control over me. It’s a two-way relationship, babe. You don’t have all the power now.” 

 

Auston scowled even harder. But he knew Mitch was right. Change was coming for the both of them. 

 

“And what do you want?” Auston asked. 

 

“What do I want?” 

 

“What do you want me to do?” Auston gritted.

 

“I want you to be reasonable,” Mitch started. “I want you to understand and think about the consequences of your actions. Because I won’t always be there to clean up your messes. And you don’t always have to be so flashy, you have hockey for that.”

 

“You know it’s not about being flashy,” Auston glowered. 

 

“I know. But it’s what it seems like in the department. The time for elaborate murders is over. Take your rage out onto the ice. It belongs there,” Mitch said. 

 

Auston clenched his fists. “I’ll try.”

 

“That’s all that I ask for,” Mitch smiled weakly. 

 

***

 

June was a weird month in Toronto. The days usually started off comparatively cold, warmth not quite settling in due to the lack of sunshine. But then, the temperature would rise, leaving behind a sweltering heat that squeezed the sweat out of Mitch. Especially in his stupid suits. He should get a cottage. Or, rather, Auston should get a cottage. And Mitch could just stay in it. Problem solved. 

 

The city of Toronto was in an outrage, still not quite over their untimely loss in the final round of the playoffs to the Wild. Mitch wasn’t salty about it, no, of course not. They’d come plenty close in the last couple of years and he was certain the Cup would be paraded down Toronto’s streets in no time. 

 

Hockey never died in a hockey town. 

 

Just like the Leafs, Auston and he had come a long way since their first meeting a year and a half ago, growing together in a way that boderlined an unhealthy symbiosis. Which Mitch didn’t complain too much about, as long as they didn’t get into too much trouble. 

 

And it wasn’t like their relationship was detrimental to Mitch. In fact, it was the opposite. A few years back, pre-Auston Matthews, Mitch would still have been the angry little boy with a dark past locked behind masked enthusiastic smiles. He wouldn’t have come to terms with Charles Alford. There were things he didn’t understand before, things about himself. He didn’t want to confront the malicious thoughts in his head, didn’t want to acknowledge the darker sides of his personality before. And he still wasn’t perfect yet. There were still a ways to go in terms of his guarded personality, but he was getting there. Auston was uncovering the layers of his character, like peeling back a brittle shell. It took time and patience, and he was bound to get stabbed by a pointy edge, but it was good. It helped Mitch grow closer to Auston, but he wasn’t sure they could get any closer. Auston shared Mitch’s mind and Mitch shared Auston’s. He was Auston’s and Auston was his. 

 

Nothing could ever change that. 

 

Mitch stretched, popping a few joints in his lower back. He had sat all day at his desk due to some pertinent paperwork. That had sucked. It was almost five and he would be able to get back home on a boring Wednesday afternoon. Evening? 

 

“I’m almost done with the report on the Watts’ case,” Patty said from Mitch’s left. 

 

“Great,” Mitch said, muffled by his arms as he typed on  his laptop. 

 

“Are you almost done looking over the Angel of Death murders?” Patty asked. 

 

“Yeah, just a few more paragraphs and I’m done,” Mitch sighed. 

 

“It’s unnerving that it’s a cold case now,” Patty said with a grim face. 

 

“Very,” Mitch said in response.

 

Patty snorted, “you couldn’t be more unenthusiastic if you tried.”

 

“Excuse me for wanting to get back home to my boyfriend as soon as possible after a long day of paperwork,” Mitch pouted. 

 

“I’m wondering if your work ethic should be re-evaluated,” Patty smirked. “Or should I say–”

 

“Don’t you da–”

 

“–your learning skills.” 

 

“I fucking hate you,” Mitch muttered. “It was one G. Literally one!”

 

“Don’t be like that with your father,” Patty frowned, fake-stern. 

 

“I hate you,” Mitch repeated, thoroughly offended. Patty laughed, turning back to his screen. 

 

Mitch’s phone buzzed. 

 

_ babe, WED, 4:54 PM _

_ i might need some help _

 

Mitch groaned and replied,  _ help with what? _

 

The response came within seconds.

 

_ babe, WED, 4:55 PM _

_ Something bad _

 

Mitch frowned,  _ stop being so cryptic _ .

 

Auston’s response was a call, the unexpected vibration of his cellphone scared Mitch. He had let out a tiny shriek, disturbing Patty who had an amused smirk on his face. 

 

“I just gotta take this,” Mitch explained, “I think Auston might’ve set off the fire alarm again.” Patty nodded with a half-concerned smile as Mitch walked out of the department. 

 

“What do you want?” Mitch whispered into his cell. 

 

“I, uh, did something bad,” Auston started. 

 

“I know that! What did you specifically do?” Mitch questioned. 

 

“There’s that guy you talked about, the child rapist? Robert Pattinson or something. I killed him. Don’t worry, I’m disposing of him properly, but I need you to distract Willy.” Auston said. 

 

“Are you kidding me? Aus, I’m still at work. Didn’t you say you weren’t going to do this in the middle of the day?”

 

“Well, yeah, but I just couldn’t stop. Like, it was so easy to find him and get it finished with. You know how I get, Mitchy.”

 

Mitch sighed. “Fine. What do you want me to do?”

 

“Willy wants to hang but I said I was going to surprise you with dinner for our bullshit moving-in together anniversary. So he’s supposed to go to the department and distract you until seven.”

 

“Auston,” Mitch groaned. “I don’t want to see Willy today!” 

 

“Think of the greater good, Mitchy,” Auston pleaded. 

 

“He’s going to be here in ten minutes, isn’t he?” 

 

“Yup.”

 

“Thanks, Auston,” Mitch said sarcastically. 

 

“No problem, baby. I promise I’ll make it up to you,” Auston said, affection and gratitude prominent in his voice. 

 

“You better,” Mitch muttered and hung up. Mitch smiled a bit to himself. Only he would get caught up in all of this resultant bullshit. But he wouldn’t trade it away.

 

Living a normal life was overrated anyway. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOO! How was everything? Hopefully good lmao!
> 
> Thanks to everyone who's stayed for this long journey! I really hope you guys enjoyed it!
> 
> Maybe there'll be some shorter fics that I'll write later on, I know I've got a few ideas so far. Please come talk to me on tumblr or leave a comment below if you'd like to inquire about anything. Fic ideas, current WIPs, the leafs being stupidly adorable, my inbox is always open! 
> 
> Again, thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> So?
> 
> What'd you guys think?
> 
> Leave a comment and kudos and come talk to me on tumblr [@mitcheemarns](https://mitcheemarns.tumblr.com/) :))


End file.
